The High King's Queen
by A. Lily Potter
Summary: Being the High King means to be ready to sacrifice oneself if need be. It means having countless responsibilities. Peter Pevensie never wanted another one until Aslan decrees for him to marry. At polar odds with Isabela, Peter faces the greatest of all dilemmas. Can he prove his loyalty to Aslan, his family, Narnia and most of all Isabela? Peter/OC
1. Beneath the Shadowy Canopy

**Author's Note:** I got this idea when wondering why neither Peter nor Edmund had any love interests. Hope you like it.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything in the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does. I am merely borrowing the characters for this plot.

* * *

The sun rose over the golden orange horizon melting into the embrace of the soft strawberry pink and sharp sea green and throwing blood red rays encircled with lemon yellow into the lavender, pink and blue sky.

Cair Paravel stood at the very end of Narnia and was the first place to be graced by the new sun. It hung over the sea, the soft waves splashing at its cliff. Its mermaid residents danced with the pure blue waters. The walls were tall, almost reaching the sky. The ornate windows reflected the sunlight and it was furnished magnificently.

'I will not!'Peter's cry rang around the throne room. His golden honey hair fell into his warm blue eyes. His golden-midnight blue robes concealed his pale skin.

'For Aslan's sake, Peter!'Susan frowned, chiding him slightly. 'You are a king. Act like one!'

She had long; long ravishing black hair which was in natural luxurious curls. Her blue eyes, much different than her brother's, stood out against her creamy, white skin. She sat on the throne next to Peter, her silvery gown falling to her well-kept ankles. She stared thoughtfully at the window

'She's right' Young Lucy said consolably. Her auburn red silky hair fell to her shoulders. Her sweet voice and innocent smile were the most winning things in all of Narnia. 'Girls are not as bad as you think they are.'

'Easy for you to say.' Edmund said darkly though his eyes had a mischievous glint in them. His dark brown hair and mysterious dark eyes made him all the more charming and gave him an air of gentleness and attentiveness. 'And anyways you never had to face millions of girls yelling things like 'Marry me dearest Ed!' or 'I love you Peters!'

Giggling, Lucy fell off her throne. Even Susan was smiling, her eyes sparkling.

'You had admirers, Ed?' she asked mock surprised.

'Tons and tons. An army full.' He said solemnly. Susan turned her attention back to her elder brother who was rapidly sinking into his throne.

'I shall arrange for some balls and other events. And you'll _have_ to be present.' She added guessing his plan.

Lucy clapped her hands together apparently delighted.

'How very fun!'

Peter groaned and closed his eyes.

'It seems to be that I am being prepared for my funeral not for my wedding.'

Edmund snorted while his sisters tried to conceal smiles. This _would_ be fun.

'You know I am not enjoying this as much as you.'

Peter sank lower into his throne. He stared at his laughing siblings.

'Why don't you get married first, tell me how it is and then I'll see if I want to get married.'

'It is Narnian tradition for the eldest to be married first. Sorry Peter.' Susan said wryly.

Peter groaned loudly.

'You are acting as if we are asking you to eat spinach rather than asking you to get married.' Lucy said, hands on her waist.

'No this is much worse.'

Edmund grinned.

'Look on the bright side we will leave you alone.'

'Fat chance.' Peter muttered. 'You will _never_ leave me alone.'

There was silence broken only by the creaking of the throne room doors and the footsteps of a faun. He was wearing a red woolen scarf and his expression was amused.

'Mr. Tumnus!' Instantly Lucy's face lit up as she rushed into her friend's arms hugging him tightly. 'How are you? You simply must stay here until Peter's wedding!'

'Oh I will!' Mr. Tumnus chuckled. 'But Peter doesn't seem to be too happy about this.'

''Good guess.' Peter said. 'Must I marry?'

'Yes.' Susan replied sharply.

'Must I wed?'

'Yes.'

'Must I join my hands in matrimony with some lady?'

'It's the same thing, Peter!' Susan replied angrily. 'Come off it!'

Peter groaned again and sank lower into his throne. Lucy brightened evidently having some hilarious thought. She rushed to Edmund murmuring something in his ear. Edmund laughed as Lucy ran to Susan muttering the same thing in her ear. Now Susa's smiles joined Edmund's, Lucy's and Mr. Tumnus's laughter.

Peter eyed them suspiciously.

'What did Lu say?'

Edmund choked and spoke up.

'Nothing, wise brother, nothing at all.'

'Isn't it bad enough that I am being forced to marry and you are teasing me?' Peter asked exasperatedly.

'Nope.' Lucy said, smiling innocently. 'We will tease you till the second you die.'

'Oh ha ha. Very funny, Lu.'

* * *

Isabella rushed pass the servants attempting their daily chores. From her warrior father, the king of Celestiene, she had inherited her unnatural tall height, haughty eyes ad excellent swordsman skills. And from her mother, whose parents had come from Narnia to escape from the White Witch, her slender frame and long, long jet black hair. From her Narnian grandfather she had inherited her square cut jaw and from her grandmother her wide doe eyes colored a radiant emerald green.

After her parent's tragic deaths when she was barely one year old, her three brothers had been responsible for her upbringing. They had taught her sword fighting, horse riding and archery as she was a wonderful pupil, keen to learn everything and anything. Despite her fiery temper she was generally sweet and shy and loved by all who knew her. Particularly her brothers.

Dane as the eldest was now king. His dark hair was pulled back in a small ponytail and his midnight blue eyes gave him a manly air. Many people thought him to be unkind and arrogant but in truth his nature was shyer than that of his siblings. But when the time came for him to be strong he overcame all else.

James, the youngest of the four, was the most attentive and wise. His coppery brown hair was like silk and everyone he met envied his eyes which were a deep, dark honey. He looked at all the facts and was the leader of Foreign Affairs. He was a diligent boy with an excellent memory and natural charm.

Of all her brothers, Isabella was closest to Lorien who was without a doubt the most handsome man in all of Celestiene. His hair was black like Isabella's only silkier and softer. His snow white skin made his brilliant chocolate eyes stand out. He was extraordinarily mischievous. He was tall and thin and a natural swordsman. To his dismay more than half of the female population of the land was after him begging to be his wife.

Last but not least, the person who completed their family with her bright, teasing attitude was Ginevra Sanchez, Isabella's sister-in-law and Dane's wife. She was the most beautiful woman ever to walk on earth. Her skin was naturally white, her cheeks red and her eyes ice blue. She had lovely red hair which fell demurely to her waist. It was not difficult to see why Dane and every other man she met was instantly ensnared by her. Under her ladylike pretence resided a fierce tigress ready to claw out the eyes of anyone who dare hurt her family. She and Isabella were the best of the friends.

Isabella flew into Ginevra's chambers not caring to knock. Inside Dane was standing up, his eyebrows raised. Ginevra was sitting on the wide bed an amused smile across her features. Isabella blushed

'Bad timing?' She asked. Dane sighed.

'Come in, dearest sister.' Feeling utterly at loss she followed her brother. Ginevra embraced her tightly ignoring Isabella's embarrassment.

'How are you, Lia?'

'Uh….fine……?' Isabella cast her eyes down. Ginevra laughed.

'It is impossible how you and Dane are alike!'

Dane frowned.

'I am a little monster?'

'Is Lia one?' Ginevra countered, smirking triumphantly.

Dane scowled.

'Women!' they heard him mutter.

Isabella sat down on the carpeted floor crossing her legs. Barely two seconds had passed that the door opened an inch. James peeked inside. Isabella laughed rushing to his willing arms.

'How are you Ilea?' he asked quietly sitting beside her.

'I meet you everyday Jay.' Isabella said leaning against the bed frame. James laughed.

'Indeed you do.'

Dane opened his mouth to speak when the door banged open.

'There is no peace in this house.' Ginevra muttered. Lorien grinned as he sat on Isabella's other side.

'Sorry Ginny.'

Dane cleared his throat.

'The Council of Narnia has given King Peter one month to get married.'

'Are you planning to send Ginny? I am ashamed of you, Dane!' Lorien asked cheekily. Dane threw a book at him.

'Of course not!'

'Ah.' Lorien said. 'At least you have some common sense.'

Ginevra however looked puzzled.

'Then who?'

Dane sighed.

'Of course Isabella, who else?'

Isabella took the dropped book and threw it back at him.

'Dane! How dare you!'

'Easily dearest.' Smiling Dane looked at his over dramatic sister. Isabella scowled.

'I suppose it is my duty?'

'Yes, Lia.' James said, looking thoughtful. 'We have to make an alliance with our neighbors'

'Why should I have to marry an already married man?'

Lorien and James exchanged glances and burst into laughter. Isabella scowled even more deeply.

'What?!' she asked annoyed

'Nothing Bella, nothing at all.' James wiped tears of mirth from his eyes.

Dane cleared his throat.

'You shall leave this afternoon, Lia tell Naomi to prepare your bags.'

Isabella looked up, forming a puppy-dog face.

'Can I take Lorien and James with me?'

Dane hesitated glancing at her face. Her expression melted his heart.

'Alright.' He said grudgingly. Isabella beamed and kissed his cheek.

'Thanks Dane!'

Dane didn't reply instead busied himself rummaging through his desk. James took his departure saying he had to pack and discuss matters with a duke. Lorien followed him followed closely by Isabella, who despite her earlier enthusiasm suddenly felt lonely_._

How will I leave all of them? She wondered. 'When we have never been apart?'

As if that thought itself struck the heavens it began to rain. Isabella glanced at the window on which the splashing tears of rain fell down creating a pattern.

* * *

For those of you who read _**Crown of Dreams**_. I will soon be uploading its original version.

Reviews please! And please give me your ideas. I'd be more than happy to use them.

Best regards,

L. Potter


	2. Farewell to Liriope

A/N: I'm back!!!!!!!!!!!

Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

* * *

Peter watched the lady in front of him with apparent distaste. Her dry blond hair was curled and her actual features concealed beneath a thick layer of makeup. She was rattling on and on about some latest scandal. Her high pitched voice drummed painfully in his ears. On his right sat Susan, her feet tucked gracefully behind her skirt, listening politely to the lady. On his other side sat Edmund who was equally bored as Lucy beside him who was half asleep, her red hair falling down her shoulder.

'And the eloped without their parents consent! Scandalous!'

Susan nodded, smiling stiffly. She stood up, gesturing towards the door.

'Yes. Now if you'll please excuse us we have some state matters to discuss.'

The blond left looking utterly disappointed at this sudden command. Susan rounded on Peter, her expression furious and her hair flying.

'Will you take some interest?!'

Edmund sat up, his sword dangling. He yawned and shifter Lucy into a more comfortable position. Peter spoke up.

'That was the most boring speech I ever heard and I grew up with you.'

'Peter!' Susan looked affronted. Peter held up his hands in defeat.

'Look I am not interested in the whole city of women set up outside the palace. I don't like any of them.' Peter said rolling up his cape and unrolling it again.

'We can see that.' Edmund interrupted rolling his eyes. 'It is very obvious, dear brother.'

Susan scowled.

'Peter, maybe if you take some interest it might not be half as bad.'

'Keep dreaming, Su.'

'Come on.' Susan pleaded quietly. 'At least for the next one.'

Peter sighed, exchanging annoyed looks with Edmund.

'All right.'

Susan looked pleased. Just then the centaur walked in announcing boldly.

'Princess Roselaia de Mornay of Faremn.'

Susan turned her attention back to the door. A tall, proud girl walked in. She was wearing a pink dress and pink shoes and pink eye shadow and pink everything. Peter groaned to himself. Lucy nudged him. She had been roused from her slumber by an angry Susan. The girl, Roselaia, took a seat opposite Edmund and looked at them expectantly. Susan began the talk; her interest seemed to cause the girl to talk all the more. The conversation dragged on. Roselaia looked at Peter batting her eyelashes. Peter groaned inside. Great! Just great! I'm going to murder Su!

'Which colors do you like, Your Majesty?'

'Uh……' he looked at Susan. 'I suppose blue.'

'Do you like pink?'

'I hate pink.'

A second too late he realized he had said the wrong thing. The girl burst into tears running from the room. Edmund tried hard to conceal his laughter but to no avail. Susan looked at Peter. Her expression unbelieving.

'Why did you say that?!' Peter grimaced.

'All I said was I hated pink.'

Susan smacked him.

'She was wearing pink, you idiot!'

'She was?' Peter massaged him head. 'Ou, you hit hard, Su.'

'Argh!' Susan threw up her hands and sat back down her skirts billowing.

Edmund rescued him from Susan's next wrath. Lucy perked up at his words, her drowsiness vanishing.

'Come on, Peter, we have to practice.'

Peter followed him out of the room, relief filling him. _Thank Aslan for that_

* * *

Liriope lay across the Eastern Sea. Towards the West it was inhabitant by violent volcanoes, whose red, yellow lava had frozen over the years. In the East the lush green forests gave way to the pale golden sand which turned into the pure blue waters of the Eastern Sea. High, proud mountains buried in snow resided in the north and the south was bordered by the greatest forests in the world. Though its beauty was nothing compared to Narnia's there was a certain charm about Liriope.

Her long hair were loosely wrapped in an embroidered scarf and the few escaped strands billowed with the sea air. She inhaled deeply. How she was going too miss this place! She was wearing an ankle length kimono especially made by her Japanese grandmother for her fifteenth birthday. Her death had affected her terribly and this was shortly followed by her parent's murder. She had never felt so alone. Quiet footsteps sounded across the deck. Isabella opened her eyes and glanced back.

'I thought I'd find you here!' Lorien called, grinning softly.

Isabella smiled.

'Its so beautiful…..' she murmured indicating the blue waves. They seemed to sing to her. She stared trying to see the sea floor but she could not. Lorien looked carefully at her, frowning ever so slightly.

'Why are you looking so miserable?'

Isabella looked at him.

'Well in case you didn't know I may be leaving you forever!'

Lorien stared at her, coughing slightly.

'Forever?' he repeated. 'Why forever?'

'What if I do get married?! How will I leave you, James, Ginny and Dane?' Tears stung her eyes at the very thought.

Lorien muttered something inaudible under his breath and put his arms of her shoulders.

'Sweetness, do you think we would let you off that easily?'

'Yeah.' James appeared out of nowhere. 'Did you honestly think we would leave you alone?'

Isabella sniffed, her expression brightened.

'You'll visit me often then?'

Lorien and James exchanged glances and burst into teasing laughter.

'Visit?' James asked leaning against the ship

'We will visit so often you won't even feel we are gone.'

Isabella laughed in spite of herself, her hair fluttered violently by now.

'Promise?'

'Promise.' They said in unison.

Cair Paravel was in sight now. Isabella turned to look at it. It truly lived up to its name. It was magnificent. The walls were high reaching up to the sky. The window reflected the sunlight and soon enough Isabella felt partially blinded with the grandeur. She glanced at her brothers who were now involved in a deep conversation with the captain.

'Yes….. to Celestiene……..very well……'

The port was filled with soldiers and knights rushing to and fro. Isabella watched curious. Her eyes scanned the place. The harbor was decorated with colored lanterns presumably to light during the night. Isabella stared transfixed.

'Come on, Lia.' James grabbed her arm and led her off the boat ignoring her feeble protests. Their horses were waiting by the farthest end of the dock. Lorien was already on his horse, his hair glowed in the sunlight.

'Come on slowpokes!'

Isabella mounted her horse patting it gently. She tossed the reins and urged the horse, Safire, to go faster. Unfortunately for her, her brothers realized her plans.

'Oh no you don't!' Lorien exclaimed rushing his horse forward. Isabella tilted her head back, laughing freely at her disgruntled brothers. Safire was fast, galloped like the wind and Isabella had to pull over and wait for her brothers.

'James, Lorien where will we stay?' she asked suddenly.

Lorien shrugged looking at James. James spoke slowly.

'I asked Queen Lucy to let us reside at Cair Paravel.'

Isabella glared daggers at him.

'What?!- I-how?-James!'

James grinned.

'I love annoying you.'

At this Isabella resolutely refused to speak to him. Her eyes wandered the castle.

'What if he has already chosen a bride?' she asked fearfully, her heart hammering. Lorien sighed.

Then you go back home and we bind you to the topmost tower so that you never escape.'

'Thanks Lorien.' Isabella said sarcastically. 'That is very comforting.'

Lorien beamed.

'Glad to be of service!'

Cair Paravel was larger than it seemed. Isabella found no words to describe it and so meekly followed her brothers inside. This was going to be hard.

* * *

Susan gathered up her papers which contained the information of various lands. She sighed rubbing her temples. She had never before realized the numbers of the female population. She really couldn't blame Peter. Her blue eyes were closed and she rang for a servant. In two seconds a faun stood before her, falling to his knees.

'Your Majesty, how may I be of service to you?'

Susan smiled wryly.

'How many times have I told you to address me as Susan?'

The faun chuckled. His red scarf was laid out across his neck.

'I have lost count.'

'Will you please fetch Lucy for me?'

The faun nodded and hurried away. Sunlight crept into the room, warming her back. Susan lay back trying to invite sleep to come. It wouldn't. The door opened and she straightened up.

'Yes, Su?' Lucy asked coming inside. Her blood red gown looked beautiful with her locks and pretty eyes. Susan bid her sit down.

'Lucy will you please go over the rest.' She motioned towards a long pile. 'I am dreadfully tired.'

Lucy beamed.

'Of course Su!'

Susan got up, her dress falling to her ankles in lovely pleats. Lucy took her empty seat watching her sister exit the room. She sighed turning her attention to the state affairs. Barely had one minute passed that a servant rushed in apparently out of breath.

'Your Majesty?'

Lucy nodded, her eyes rising to meet the servant's.

'Princes Lorien and James and Princess Isabella of Liriope request an audience with you.'

Lucy brightened. Finally she would get to meet the much talked about people.

'Send them in.' Bowing, the servant went outside. Lucy ran a few fingers through her hair and brushed her velvet dress. She lifted her eyes upon hearing footsteps.

They truly lived up to her expectations. Prince Lorien had jet black hair and deep, blue eyes which gave every sign to be mischievous. His height was rivaled deeply by that of his sister presumably Princess Isabella. Lucy's cheeks dimpled as she looked at the girl. Certainly she wasn't beautiful but there was an air of magic about her. Lucy's attention was diverted by her other brother, James, following her. Her cheeks turned pink and she glanced away. Prince Lorien moved forwards taking her small hand into his, kissing it softly.

'Alas, My Lady! You are as beautiful as the rumors said so!'

Lucy watched amusedly as Isabella poked him in the ribs. Lorien winced clutching his chest dramatically. James shook his head muttering under his breath.

'How may I help you, Your Highnesses?' Lucy asked politely gesturing towards the seats. 'Do be seated.'

'Your Majesty, we asked your permission to stay at Cair Paravel as we forgot about reserving rooms.' James said, casting annoyed glances at his siblings.

'Of course.' Lucy stood up gathering her skirts. 'Follow me.'

Lucy led them out of the room, moving through the various complex mazes of Cair Paravel. The visitors looked on, delighted. Lucy smiled. They would be perfect for the family.

'Lucy!' Susan's voice rang around the corridor and her pretty sister came into view. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lorien blush. She ignored the onlookers, her expression worried. 'You'd better get up to the throne hall quickly Peter's having a fit.'

'Oh dear.' Lucy said. 'Well, Your Highnesses, please excuse me.'

James inclined his head and Lorien bowed smartly.

'Nonsense!' Isabella said, waving her hand. Susan narrowed her eyes. Lucy smiled and bid them farewell. Lorien grinned at the Queen.

'My Lady, will you take us to our rooms?'

'No!' Susan snapped clearly annoyed by his cheeky tone. 'Mr. Tumnus shall do that.'

Mr. Tumnus came forwards bowing before the three siblings.

'Your Highnesses.'

Susan stalked off quivering with anger. Mr. Tumnus led the way to the Eastern Hall of the castle. Isabella's chambers were directly opposite from those of her brothers.

'Farewell, Your Highness.' Mr. Tumnus stated. Isabella smiled at him.

'Please call me Lia or Bella.'

Mr. Tumnus chuckled.

'Very well Lia.'

Isabella walked in her cape flying behind her. The room was truly magnificent. In the middle of the room lay a huge canopy. The wall paper was ancient and antic. Its red and gold covers sparkled in the soft lamp light. Isabella stared with wonder at the room. Next to the dressing table stood a closet and the furniture gleamed. Isabella was distracted by a sharp knocking. Curiously she made her way back and opened the double doors.

No one was there yet a white parchment flickered to the ground. She picked it up and looked at it. Her heart stopped as she read the words. The other insults merely sparked her anger.

_You are not wanted here!_

To be continued….

* * *

Reviews please!

L. Potter


	3. Journey to Cair Paravel

Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

_Melting Sweetness_

Peter scowled, stalking away from the courtyard. Anger reigned over him. How dare they?! The nerve! His sword dangled on his side and he longed to use it towards _him. _

'_Argh! Who does he think he is anyway?' _he thought furiously reaching up to tousle his golden hair.

The halls of Cair Paravel were alight with sunshine The large windows let in millions of rays of light The heavy, crimson velvet hanging were pulled back to border the edges of the window. The halls were heavily carpeted with hand embroidered carpets.

Soft pattering of feet signaled his youngest sister's arrival. Lucy smiled at him shaking her head. Her eyes were worried and Peter knew she knew how he felt Peter sighed and fell to the floor, his back against the wall. Lucy gathered up her orange skirts and sat beside him, tucking her feet in gracefully

'Peter, what happened?' she asked softly rubbing his arm. Peter frowned.

'They taunted me……..'

Lucy sighed putting her head on his shoulder.

'What about?'

'Nothing.'

Lucy grinned. 'They taunted you about nothing? What does nothing stand for in this phrase?'

Peter scowled. Lucy spoke gently.

'Peter………What did they do?'

Peter turned crimson as memories flooded back to him. Lucy looked at him expectantly.

'They told me to marry one of you.' He said ashamed and humiliated. Lucy's eyes flashed.

'What did you do?'

'He hit him.'

Peter glanced up to see Edmund standing beside him, wincing slightly. Lucy looked incredulous.

'What?!'

'A bruised eyes, two broken bones and quite a few bruises.'

'Wonderful.' Lucy said sarcastically.

'Thank you.' Edmund shrugged sitting on Peter's other side, looking at him through his dark bangs.

'I was being sarcastic.'

'So was I.'

Lucy sighed in defeat.

'Peter you know perfectly well that this could cause a war to erupt out!'

Peter flinched at her words.

'So I should have let him go on and on about my sisters?' he asked bitterly.

'Is it very hard to walk away?'

Peter stood up glaring at his innocent sister. She didn't know.

Just let it go.' He growled walking away from his siblings. Edmund and Lucy stared after him. Her eyes closed again and she lolled her head to the side o Edmund's shoulder.

Peter walked through the halls until he had no idea where he was going. He shut his eyes trying hard to forget everything that had happened.

'Ouch!' Peter opened his eyes as somebody pushed into him. The air was knocked out of him and for a few seconds he looked around confusedly. Black silk hindered his vision. He steadied himself.

'Will you watch where you are going?!' Peter stared at the girl. She could be much younger than him. Her looks were truly attractive and her features prominent and soft. He soon realized the meaning of her words and this caused him to scowl angrily. Again.

'I did not bump into you; you bumped into me, My Lady.'

'Have your elders never told you not to walk with your eyes closed?' she asked him pointedly hand crossed. Peter stared at her taken aback by her rudeness. Was it possible that she did ot know who he was?

'Excuse me?' he asked huffily, his pride seriously bruised.

'Come to think of it maybe you do not have the five senses…..' she said poking him in the cheek. Peter frowned. Who was this girl anyways?

'My Lady, do you not know who I am?'

'No I think you must be some stable boy or maybe a field hand.' She said loftily, tossing her head. His jaw dropped open.

'Who are you?!' he asked rudely. The girl smiled waving a finger at him.

'Manners, good sir, manners….'

'Do you know who I am?'

'No, who?'

'I am the High King of Narnia.' He announced, smirking. He imagined she would fall into a curtsy or apologize or even cry. She did neither. On the contrary she was smiling even more brightly.

'Oh good! I got to meet you before the meeting.'

Peter stared at her. They were standing in the same place of the hall. The sunlight was slightly less in quantity.

'At least you are young.' She wrinkled her nose. 'I thought you'd be older.'

'Really?' Peter asked sarcastically. 'Who are you?'

'Me?' the girl looked surprised. 'I'm Isabella.'

'Isabella?' Comprehension dawned on him. 'The princess of Liriope?'

Isabella frowned sharply.

'I prefer not to be told that.' She said stiffly, turning away from him. Peter winced.

'It is a pleasure to meet you My Lady.' Peter kissed her pale, soft hand.

'Peter!' Susan's voice rang along the hallway. 'There you are!'

She noticed Isabella and seeing her the latter nodded slightly. Susan let a smile grace her features.

'Princess Isabella!'

'Queen Susan, if it may not offend you I would be honored to be addressed simply as Lia or Ilea or Bella.'

'Why do you have so many names?' she inquired. 'If it is not intruding upon privacy.'

Isabella smiled and shrugged.

'My brothers… Please excuse me, Your Majesties.'

Peter nodded arrogantly while Susan smiled again. After Isabella had turned from the corridor Peter turned to see his sister's vibrant shining eyes.

'I knew it!' she exclaimed. 'I knew you would find someone!'

Peter ignored her and walked off however she caught up to his long strides.

'Come on Peter…..' Susan pleaded, forming a mischievous smile. 'Or I shall tell Edmund!'

Peter stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open.

'You wouldn't.' He said horrified.

'Watch me.' Susan ran off. Peter stood stunned, muttering to himself under his breath.

'Women are a man's curse.'

* * *

Darkness overwhelmed all else. Shadows danced over the walls, making low taunting hisses which echoed off the high walls like the musical tones of a duet……….. There was not a trace of light as if it was forced out by the evil, the greed, the selfishness. Nothing seemed right.

A small, stout man sat bowing near the corner. His expression was pitiful and his eyes nervous. His breathing was alive with fear.

'Did you get the girl?' a low, raspy voice issued from within the darkness. It sent shivers down the man's spine for he could not see the source of the voice. He hesitated.

'No, My Lord.'

There was silence. This dulcet spell was broken by the menacing voice.

'What did you say?'

'I-- I---It----My----' the man stuttered terror evident in his features.

'You simpering fool!' the voice snarled. 'You low down dumb animal!'

The man dropped his head. He was shaking. His body trembled all over and sweat ran down his forehead, tickling his ears and washing his parched throat.

'My Lord, we could not……….'

'Could not?' It was furious. The tones seemed to magnify a thousand fold. 'Could not, Roiecher?'

The man dropped down.

'My Lord, her brothers they were with her!' he spoke out. The words lolling out of his tongue. 'We dare not attack! After the many rumors….'

The voice spoke unpleasantly, his voice burning with fire.

'You, with your _entourage_ of minotaur, could not take on three teenagers? Answer me!'

The man held up his hands.

'My Lord…………Why do you want her?'

'You ask me why I want her.' The voice repeated incredulously. 'Her? Have you not heard about her skills? About her fierceness?'

The man looked confused, his red face was relieved. The voice went on.

'Did you have nothing to say about her?

'I…….' The man looked uncertain, scared. 'I…Master she is most treasured by her brothers.'

Once again silence reigned.

'Thank you for that most vital piece of information……'

'My Lord?' the man asked. However it went on smoothly, sleekly

'However you know too much for your own good.'

The man was struck dumb.

'I'm afraid you must perish…..but you were marvelously helpful.'

The man stood up, horrified. He took steps back.

'No….no…….my family…..my wife……my daughter…….NO!'

This anguished cry rang across the room. The voice snarled again. It descended towards the cowering man. The inkiness engulfing him. He couldn't breathe. His eyes widened. His mouth opened in a soundless scream. Yet no voice came out. He slumped over as if shot, his red blood spreading over the floor.

'Most helpful,' The voice said coldly. 'Most helpful……….'

* * *

'Peter and Isabella sitting on a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!' Edmund and Lucy collapsed into fits of laughter. Susan tried to bite back giggles but they over ruled. She joined her younger siblings on the floor. Standing nearby, Mr. Tumnus was chuckling. The sun was barely in view now. The great Eastern Sea was ablaze with different shades of red, yellow and orange. Peter groaned kicking back his boots.

'Must you sing this?'

'Uh-huh.' Lucy replied wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. The Valiant Queen was dressed in orange velvet robes and her auburn hair was pulled back from her young face.

'Shall we complete it for you?' Edmund asked breathing with difficulty. 'It isn't hard to remember.'

'NO !' Peter half shouted hastily. 'I-'

A centaur walked in, his hooves clicking.

'Sire, there is an emergency. You must come immediately.'

Their smiles vanished and they leapt up, brushing their clothes. What had happened? Peter ran out of the chambers, his sword dangling. Edmund, Susan and Lucy followed him, their expressions grim.

The court was filled with the council. The room was dark. High chairs lined both sides of the room running parallel to each other. Four thrones sat in the north beckoning to the Kings and Queens. Orieus stood next the double doors, his face serious. Even Reepicheep was disturbed, his face concentrating on who knew what. Several other Narnians were present but Peter's eyes were fixed on his General.

'What has happened?' Lucy asked worry evident in her voice. 'What is it?'

Susan frowned. Her face paled when she heard the next words. Lucy's jaw dropped and Edmund's knuckles turned white.

'Valdale has attacked Liriope. He is aided by the Northern giants.'

To be continued………

* * *

Reviews please! How'd you like it? Reviews! Thanks!

L. Potter


	4. In the Serpent's Fangs

Author's Note: This is set during the Golden Age of Narnia. I messed up their ages because otherwise they won't fit in. Peter is eighteen, Susan is seventeen, Edmund is sixteen and Lucy if fourteen.

Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia. C. S. Leis does. I am merely borrowing the characters for this plot.

* * *

Her chestnut locks glowed in the sunlight, sparkling with beautiful highlights. They fell to her shoulders framing her inhumanly pretty face. She had creamy white skin making her light blue eyes prominent. She wore a simple brown dress falling to her ankles. A belt was placed around her waist beholding a dagger and a sword. On her slender back she had slung a bow and a quiver full of arrows.

'Asha!'

She turned slightly as the wind blew terribly. Ginevra moved towards her, holding a sharp blade in her hand. She was breathing heavily. Asha looked at her, her expression quizzical.

'What has happened, Your Majesty?'

'Valdale has attacked the Archenland borders.' Asha turned pale.

'What?'

Ginevra sighed, replacing her sword and shaking her head. It was becoming a habit more of late.

'His Majesty would not accept our offered help.'

'That fool!' Asha snarled turning towards the balcony railing. She scanned the far ends. 'He will get us all killed!'

'That is true.' Ginevra agreed settling to the floor. 'We cannot afford to lose Archenland to the enemy.'

'What is Dane doing?'

'He is doing all he can to seal all our borders. It is almost near to impossible seeing as the sea neighbors us on the west.'

Asha sighed. Why did there have to be wars? As if she had read her mind, Ginevra said softly.

'Because humans can never agree on one thing. Not all of them.'

Asha laughed bitterly.

'Yes! And it is us who has to lose our families! Our homes! Our freedom! Because of stupid people not agreeing together.'

'No, we are fighting because we believe in freedom for everyone.'

'I apologize, Your Majesty.'

Ginevra half smiled.

'Forgiven.'

Asha stayed silent. Clouds gathered overhead giving a grayish tinge to the sky. The grounds were empty though the moaning wind offered compensation.

'I miss Lia.'

Ginevra patted her hand.

'I do too, but it cannot be helped. It is important to set up a treaty with our neighbors.'

'More like marriage treaty.'

'Asha……'

'Sorry.'

'Hm……………..'

Asha leaned back, her hand on the railing.

'Do you suppose Valdale will attack Liriope?'

'I am almost certain.' Ginevra smiled wryly. 'It is fortunate that Isabella, Lorien and James are away from danger.'

'The news will spread.'

'Indeed. I hope they are kept ignorant of it long enough.'

'Isabella will find out. You know her.' Asha said. 'And she will return to Liriope with all haste'

'I do.'

The silence was broken by a loud voice.

'Your Majesty? Princess Asha?'

Both turned around to face the servant who was red in the face and puffing heavily. They exchanged glances.

'Yes?' Ginevra asked finally standing up. The servant faltered.

'King Dane would like an audience with you.'

Asha smiled to herself picturing Ginevra's indignant expression.

'Audience?' she asked incredulously. 'He couldn't find a better word?'

'I……forgive me Your Majesty.' The servant rushed away leaving Ginevra muttering to herself. Asha faced her.

'Come on.'

They shuffled through the halls. Asha's light steps echoed on the marble. Her hair wove down her back, giving her a radiant look.

Dane was standing beside his study, his robes midnight blue. He turned around at their entrance. Asha fell into a curtsy, only rising at his suggestion.

'Asha I have decided to send you to Narnia.' He hesitated. 'As an ambassador to ask for support in case of war.'

Asha stared at him amusedly.

'Or it could be to ensure Isabella is safe from the traps of the other men.' Ginevra said blithely. Dane scowled at her.

'Maybe.'

He turned to Asha, who was grinning.

'You shall leave now.'

Asha's expression turned unbelieving. She flung her curtain of hair aside.

'What?!'

'Yes.' Dane said calmly. 'Now.'

Asha drew herself to her highest height and stalked out of the room down to the stables to prepare for a long journey. After all she couldn't miss seeing Isabella.

* * *

Peter remained silent, absently fingering his cloak. The council had been discharged long since and they were now sitting in Peter's study. Shelves of magnificently covered books were standing on the eastern and western side of the room. An antic desk had been placed, tilted slightly, towards the north facing the window showing the glorious blue sky.

Susan sat on the straight wooden chair, her hair in glistening curls. She puckered her lips into a frown.

'Should we inform Isabella, Lorien and James?'

Edmund paced the room, his dark hair messed up.

'It is their right as the ruing monarchs of Liriope.'

Lucy pushed her silken ponytail out of the way. She said softly.

'What if Liriope is under serious threat?'

'It is not.' Orieus said gravely. 'Not yet anyways. I believe it is still safe.'

'And as such we should wait before worrying their Highnesses.' Mr. Tumnus pointed out. Lucy nodded.

'We should send these ladies home.' Edmund spoke up. 'Aslan knows we do not want them to be under threat.'

'Yes.' Mr. Beaver agreed, waving his chestnut paw. 'It would not do so to have the noble daughters, sisters, nieces, granddaughters of the neighboring ruling countries to be killed.'

'Oh don't worry about that.' Lucy said suddenly. All eyes turned towards her. 'I have already issued orders for all guests to leave after the ball.'

'Ball?' Pete echoed. His voice sounded strange after not being used for hours at a stretch. Susan frowned again. Orieus spoke out.

'Why of course! I order to celebrate the anniversary of your coronation, Your Majesty.'

'Why?' Peter asked pointedly. Susan groaned and rolled her eyes.

'Shut up Peter!'

Lucy clapped her hands together. She opened her mouth but was cut off by Mrs. Beaver.

'We should all get to bed it is late.'

nodded.

'Indeed after this……ah……'

'Fiasco.' Orieus nodded. The Kings and Queens laughed.

The halls were graced by dusk. The sky was the deepest purple mixed with a rick shade of navy blue. Stars dotted the background standing out like millions of specks of light.

Susan turned around shuffling her skirts, her hand on her chamber door.

'Peter, we have dance lessons tomorrow. And you have to be there.'

Peter scowled, not answering. He marched off shouting angry threats to his devil sister once safely inside his room. Edmund and Lucy grinned at each other.

* * *

He sniffed the air. She was close, probably a mile or two away. So close……. He would not fail. Not again. Not ever. The sound of pattering hooves echoed in his ears like a rain of cannon balls. Around him the wolves shifted ever so slightly. Their paws bounded in his sharp ears. He growled at them, snarling angrily. His maroon eyes narrowed as he examined the clusters of trees in the forest leading to Cair Paravel.

It was windy. Night had fallen by now. It concealed them in its strong, dark arms. They were nearer. He gestured hastily to his minions to hide. They obliged for fear of their lives. His eyes roamed the place once more as he sank back into the shadows.

A tall, well built dryad, riding on a horse, rode into the scene. His misty white skin glittered I the night. He was carrying a sharp blade and his magnificent eyes passed over them. He held his breath. The dryad moved on. The last was a slim, muscled naiad. His thick eyebrows lined his cautious eyes as he poised his sword. On his eastern side was a small, stocky dwarf with his bow, arrowed and out. They had chosen the best of he best for their princess.

In their midst rode a graceful, unnaturally beautiful girl with brown highlighted curls falling down her shoulders. She wore a quiver of arrows and a bow on her straight back. She had a sword on her waist and a dagger beside it. Two sharp blades rested their too. Her delicately arched eyebrows scanned the area.

She stopped, her eyes foxed on the position of his first wolf. He drew in his breath. She knew.

'Attack!' he shouted deafen to his wolves' surprise. The girl drew back for the faintest of the time then she galloped off leaving a trail of fine dust after her. He yelled in fury. The dwarf shot millions of arrows at his minions and both the naiad and the dryad shot into the midst fighting to buy time for her to reach safety.

'Get her!' he shouted in rage. 'She's the one I want! After her!'

But her companions would not allow that. They fought valiantly fighting till the last breath in their bodies' and then they crumbled leaving only him alive. He cursed fluently to himself and flew after the girl who was quite far away from him.

She cursed to herself and jumped off, her skirts flying. Her hand went to her sword and she slashed it out, waving it into his face. He growled taking out his own blade. They dodged and met. Their blades wound sharply, caressing each other's steel. The girl jumped away twirling around and striking his head. He ducked but it hit him on his shoulder. She smirked at his wince. He roared angrily ad progressed forward waving his sword threateningly. She jumped away though not quick enough. Behind her emerged one of his wolves. He aimed for her neck biting the pale flesh there. She instantly flinched, her hand flying to her neck. Loosening her hold upon her hilt, she sank to the floor in a trance. He threw his sword at the wolf. It yelped and sank beside the girl, glowering unfocusedly in a distance. He smirked, letting out a yell of triumph.

* * *

'Lorien! James!' Isabella scream of panic rang around Cair Paravel. Peter's eyes flew open and he stumbled out of his bed half awake. What had happened?

To be continued……..

* * *

Hope you like it! Reviews please!

A.L. Potter


	5. Trees with Claws

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

**Author's Note**: I am so sorry I took so long to update but my finals were there. **Isabella will be referred to as Lia. **Read on!

**P.S.:** That thing of Isabella screaming that's not there yet.

**P. S. S.** Read on!

Forward March!

….

_Preview_

_She was close…_

_She instantly flinched, her hand flying to her neck. Loosening her hold upon her hilt, she sank to the floor in a trance…..He threw his sword at the wolf. It yelped and sank beside the girl, glowering unfocusedly in a distance….. He smirked, letting out a yell of triumph._

….

'No.' Lia crossed her arms, shaking her head. 'No and no!'

She was wearing a forest green dress reaching her knees with black leggings and riding boots. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun. James looked at her disapprovingly, raising his delicate eyebrows.

'Come on, Lia!'

'No.' James sighed. He was clad in a brown tunic in different hues, black leggings and boots. His hair was windswept, standing on top of his head.

'You know I can't argue with her there.' Lorien told him, muttering under his breath. He shook his head, muttering louder, fingering his black tunic. James turned to face him, rolling his wide eyes.

'Honestly it was as if Her Majesty was asking you to wrestle giants.' Peter glanced at Susan, whose beautiful features were smiling in amusement.

'No. This is worse.' Lia stared at him through her emerald eyes, shuddering. 'Dancing….. Argh!'

'Should I call Dane then?'

Lia turned pale glaring at James in a horrified manner.

'NO!'

James raised his eyebrows at Lorien who shrugged. Susan clapped her hands together.

'Very well. Orieus if you'll please…..' She nodded at the serious centaur, motioning for Peter to come forward. Lorien swept in front of her. She turned to him impatiently.

'Would her beautiful Majesty care to dance?' He asked cheekily. Susan fought to keep her temper in check.

'Very well.'

Taking her hand in his, they moved to the center of the ballroom gliding over the marble. Lia muttered dramatically.

'And they lived happily ever after…..'

Peter cleared his throat. Lia turned away, twirling her locks.

'Um…'

'Um?' Lia repeated, closing her eyes.

'Will you dance with me, My Lady?'

She opened her eyes, almost tumbling over.

'Come again? Me dance with you? Are your in your right mind?'

Peter knew his cheeks were red.

'Why do girls make everything difficult?' He thought to himself.

'Fine. Fine.' He muttered walking away. Lia called after him.

'Wait.' Peter turned to her, running a hand through his blond hair. 'I will probably regret this but come on.'

He met Edmund's eyes. He could tell Edmund did not know whether to laugh or not. Lucy's blue eyes were twinkling.

'Great!' Lia muttered. 'Just great!'

She put her soft hand on his shoulder, as he coughed touching her waist. She looked ready to faint. They stood there staring at each other.

'Um….Big Head?'

Peter's jaw dropped open. Edmund let out a guffaw. He was really enjoying himself. Lia leaned closer to him.

'How does one dance gracefully?'

If possible his jaw dropped even further. Lucy's giggles reached his ears.

'Peter….' Susan called from the east of the room. 'Please close your mouth.'

'You don't know how to dance?' he asked Lia. She shook her head.

'Unless if you have to step on each other's toes.'

'No thank you.'

Lia shrugged, looking at him.

'Alright, follow my lead.' He instructed her.

'Why _your_ lead?'

'Because I'm the one who knows how to dance.'

'Oh…' Lia trailed off. 'Oh right.'

Peter rolled his eyes. Behind him Edmund grabbed Lucy's hands pulling her according to the tune. Lucy laughed.

'Ed!'

Slowly they began dancing. After a couple of minutes she relaxed. James looked satisfied, standing beside Lorien and Susan, who was flushed. Orieus continued playing the melody. Lucy shrieked.

'Ed, no!'

_Crash!_ Edmund, Lucy, Lia and Peter crashed to the floor, tripping over each other. Glancing at each other, they rubbed their heads. Lucy smacked Edmund at his head, glaring at him. Susan fought to keep a smile from forming. Laughter rang across the room…..

….

Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.

Asha screamed. Intense pain coursed through her making her writhe. She screamed again. Hot daggers seemed to rip apart her body. She lay down, coughing and panting, battered from exhaustion and pain. Her hair was sprawled over her head, sticky with blood. She screamed, the sound ringing across the room. It echoed over the high ceilings and tall walls returning back to her ears. She shrieked out. Flames leapt inside her, burning her heart, her soul…..Her screams echoed around tauntingly as she fell against the floor, writhing and screaming.

Pain.

….

Evening had long since fallen, the autumn leaves whipping the mossy ground. Wind blew around causing everything to flutter and dance. The sun had set, twilight had fallen. Lia sat in the balcony of her room, gazing at the endless Narnian lands. The sea breeze floated up, filling her.

'Lia!'

She half turned. Mr. Tumnus was standing in the doorway, his expression worried. He was wearing his red scarf but there was more than his expression. Lia stood up, making her way over to him.

'Mr. Tumnus, is everything alright?'

'A messenger has arrived from Liriope.' Startled, Lia turned to him.

'Will you kindly inform my brothers of this?'

'Yes….yes….' He walked off in the darkness. Lia grabbed a pony, flinging her hair into a high ponytail. She walked through the halls to the throne room. The doors were open yet no noise issued out. She sped up, raising her skirts to keep from falling.

Peter, Susana, Edmund and Lucy were seated on their thrones. There was a troubled aura around them. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

A young boy knelt at their feet, his bronze hair wet, and his skin pale.

'Malcolm.' Lia called. 'What are you doing here?'

Malcolm raised himself.

'Lia, Queen Asha…she…' He choked off. Lia's eyes flashed.

'What happened to her? What is it?'

Behind her, she felt Lorien and James enter the room, their expressions alert, tense. Malcolm nodded to them.

'She….she's missing.'

'What?' Lia asked, her voice high with worry. 'How could this happen?'

Lorien put a hand on her shoulder. James walked forwards, taking control.

'Malcolm return at once to Liriope. I trust you have a horse and enough food?' He looked at the boy. Malcolm nodded. 'Mobilize the guard there. Make haste.'

Susan glanced at Peter sitting beside her, her crown tilted, glowing in the light. Peter nodded slightly.

'Your Highnesses?' Susan called. The siblings turned towards the Gentle Queen.

'We have received intelligence that Liriope is under threat of war.'

Lia started.

'Who is the invader?'

Edmund spoke up calmly.

'We do not know, he has not made his identity known.'

Lorien exchanged looks with James.

'Lia, may we talk in private with the Kings and Queens?'

Lia turned to him, her hair flying.

'Private?' she echoed suspiciously. 'I care about Liriope too!'

'Lia please.' James pleaded. 'For once.'

Relenting, Lia stalked out of the throne room, throwing her ponytail back, her skirts flying muttering about boys being stupider than stupid.

'King Peter?' Lorien asked. Peter turned towards the young man. 'We would like to ask a favor of you.'

Lucy spoke up, her cheerful demeanor still alive.

'Prince Lorien we will support Liriope in every way, if you so desire.'

James walked forwards, his sword clanking.

'We do not need your support yet, My Lady.' All eyes drifted towards him. 'We are asking a greater favor.'

Susan said, shifting her feet.

'Yes?'

'We ask you to take care of Lia.' Lorien said. 'She is too trusting and young and….' He trailed off.

'We do not want her to fight yet.' James added. 'Even though she is better than us.'

Susan stood up, her face smiling. Showing true graciousness and hospitality she said.

'Your Highnesses, we shall care for her as a best friend.'

The night darkened concealing its hidden secrets, concealing the future…..

…..

The sun rose, high and mighty over Cair Paravel. Its golden rays illuminated, dancing across the blue and green sea. The red earth of Narnia sparkled under its gaze.

Lia sniffed, hugging Lorien (who incidentally thought that she wanted to strangle him). Lorien patted her shoulder awkwardly glaring at James who was sitting astride his mare. He smiled grimly.

'Sweetness….don't….please….don't…' Lorien groaned patting her head. Lia glared at him. James spoke up.

'Lia, its okay.'

She smacked him. Rubbing his head he glared at his stubborn sister. She smile innocently, dimpling her cheeks.

'Oops?'

James sighed.

'Never mind, Lia.'

Muttering under his head he leaned down to kiss his sister good bye. Lorien hoisted himself upon his horse, winking at Lia.

'Farewell.'

'You are so going to pay when you come back.' Lia grumbled. 'Bye.'

They urged the horses forwards waving back at Lia kicking up clouds of dust. Lucy came up behind her.

'My Lady, will you come inside?'

Lia glanced at her wrinkling her nose.

'You make it sound as if I am sixty years old.'

Lucy laughed.

'Very well then, Lia will you come in?'

'Unless I can sleep in the stables with your horses, sure.' She replied sarcastically. Lucy smiled wryly.

'You are very welcome to.'

Lia looked at her thoughtfully.

'Race you upstairs.'

'GO!' Lucy shouted gathering her skirts. Laughing they pushed past each other.

….

He lifted his dark, snake eyes, tilted at the ends. Smirking he gazed outside his window, where the lunar light lit up the forest.

'I will get you…' He vowed. 'I will.'

To be continued….

…

There you are! Reviews please! Thanks to all who have reviewed! You keep me going guys!

A. L. Potter


	6. Threat of War

Author's Note: A certain someone has figured out who the girl in the previews is…

Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia. C. S. Lewis does. I am only borrowing his characters and places for the storyline.

Forward March!

….

Ginevra hastened out of bed, wincing at every sharp move. She stepped out onto the balcony, narrowing her eyes through the mist. Clad in only a bare nightgown, she shivered, clutching her nightgown closer. Morning had already settled towards the wet hills of the east and the surface of the sea had lit up faintly. Everything glowed, though it was soon obscured by the thick fog draping over the land like a grayish white blanket. Ginevra frowned, fingering her red locks. Something was clearly not right. But what? Her eyelids felt heavy from sleep and she slipped inside thinking it best not to let anyone catch her outside. Her chambers were dark form shadows of the night as the rays of the sun had not yet bestowed their light upon the room. It was eerie and quiet. The faintest sound of a bird's lament reached her ears falling as a silent melody along with the sound of hooves. _Hooves?_ She rushed to her window, running her hand over the gathering fog to make a small hole, peering intently. The forms of two horse and riders appeared, dark and angular. She frowned again thinking fast. Ginevra slipped out of her nightgown pulling on a thigh length emerald green tunic and silvery camouflage pants with her riding boots. Glancing at the mirror she pulled her hair into a high pony.

'Not much for a queen….' She thought, biting her lip. 'But it will have to do.'

She pulled opened the door, flying down the stairs, her mind whizzing. Thinking best not to go through the main doors, she slipped out through the back door, carefully checking around her. The icy coldness of the weather bit deeply into her skin despite the warm clothing. She tried to see through the mist; an impossibility.

'My Lady Sanchez!'

She froze turning around towards the source of the sound. Her heart thumped wildly.

'Who is it?' she called, her voice a timid squeak. Then louder. 'Who goes there?'

The tired, old face of a castle guard appeared, his expression surprised.

'My Lady, what are you doing here at this time of the day?'

Ginevra looked back towards the strange, tall figures.

'Stay here!' she commanded. 'I shall speak to you presently.'

'But My Lady, You cannot possibly-'

She did not give him time to reply instead running quickly towards the spot where she had last seen them. She squinted. The figures were much clear now. Men. Tall, angular and slender. They rode nearer. Suddenly they were obscured. Perhaps her imagination? But no. It couldn't be. They seemed too real. Finding her voice she yelled out.

'Halt! This is private property! Who goes there?'

There was no answer. Ginevra squinted against the thick weather yet she could see no one.

'Halt!' she shouted loudly. 'Or I alert the guard!'

'Ginny.' Someone wheezed out. The familiarity of the voice made her step nearer.

'James? Lorien?' she called uncertainly, her ponytail swinging.

'At least….' At second voice said. 'You still remember us.'

James came into sight, his hair more windswept and messier than ever, his eyes blinking with the weight of sleep. Lorien was following him. He too was half asleep with exhaustion but he managed to ride smoothly without a pause or mistake. Ginevra could not hold back a pang of envy. She put her hands on her hips, glaring at the two riders.

'What are you doing here? Do you have any idea that this place is soon to be a war zone? Where is Lia? Why hasn't she come with you? I hope no accident took place. Why didn't you call me sooner? I-'

'Jeez.' Lorien grumbled cutting across her ranting. 'Stop acting like an old granny goat.'

Her glare deepened and he held up his hands in defeat.

'I'll let James do the talking.'

James sighed.

'We are here to support you in war as we are the princes of the land. Yes we have a good idea that this place is soon to be a war zone. Lia is with the Kings and Queens in Narnia. She did not come become we thought it best to ensure her safety. No, no accident took place, none what so ever.' He assured her, continuing. 'As for not calling you, well we figured you would never let us come. Done with the interrogation?'

Ginevra's jaw hung open in surprise and she looked unhappy.

'Not quite.'

Lorien sighed dramatically.

'Can you please get us some food? We are starving you know and we have traveled for three days and to top it all of we had to hear your lecture.'

Ginevra shrugged.

'Sure.'

Following the two riders she made her way to the castle, muttering angrily to herself. The cold clung to her and she clenched her fingers. The castle cook, alerted to the presences and the rather huge appetites of the two princes, rushed about making eggs and baking toasts. Ginevra walked to her husband's chambers to wake him up. She entered quickly thinking wryly to herself.

'Boys are without a doubt the essence of mess.'

She made a face at the papers and clothes strewn all over the place, stepping over upturned shoes and shaking Dane up.

'Dane, wake up!' She poked his arm and in response he swung his fist at her. She ducked quickly, taken by surprise.

'Dane! Cut it out!'

Fumbling with the water jar on the bed side table, she dropped all the contents on Dane's face. Spluttering and gasping he shot out of bed, looking for his sword. It was a god thing it was no where hear him or Ginevra would have been…well….. She retreated back careful of Dane's swift moves. Finally his bleary eyes focused upon her and she smirked.

'Good to see you are awake, sleeping beauty.'

Dane scowled.

'What?' he asked. Ginevra raised an eyebrow.

'Your brothers are here, Dane and it would be pleasant f you were not so rude.'

Dane winced at her stiff tone.

'Sorry.'

'Whatever.' She stalked out of the room, swinging her hair behind her. Dane shook his head. Ginevra sat down across from her brother-in-laws watching them disgustedly.

'Where are your manners?'

Lorien held up his head.

'What manners?' but it came out as: 'Wob mawnrs?'

Ginevra shook her head watching Lorien's antics closely, her face puckered into a deep frown.

'Disgusting.'

'I know.' Lorien flashing her a brilliant smile. 'Disgusting is my middle name.'

…**.**

Peter bit his lip, fingering his sword obviously deep in thought. The afternoon sun rested lazily overhead casting hot glances at the scorching sand. The waves of the Eastern Sea splashed upon the beach in a furious battle with the sun to see whose affect would last further. The watching breeze danced through the land, whispering to the trees urging the limp flowers to look up, alert.

His face was fierce and focused as he went through a series of stances, his blade performing complicated maneuvers. His slender, well built body danced along with the breeze. His breathing become harsh and the sunlight shone through his fair hair; his eyes sparkled. His boots moved along with the sword in a difficult match with an imaginary enemy. The blade made whooshing sounds as if collided painfully with the wind. In a deadly arc he brought his sword down completing the sequence, face flushed, eyes sparkling. He stopped when he heard the sound of leaves rustling. He smirked to himself.

'You know I can hear you form there.'

'Of course.' Peter turned around meeting Isabella's emerald eyes. She was dressed in silver pants, a brown tunic and long boots, her hair pulled back into a messy pony. 'High King Peter, _the Magnificent _can do anything right?'

He scowled at her mocking tone. Who did this girl think she was anyways?

'I do not expect you to know anything.' He said stiffly. Isabella smiled widely.

'Glad to see that you notice something, Big Head.'

'Big Head? Where'd you get that?'

Isabella shrugged.

'How should I know?'

Peter did not reply, turning around jauntily. Silence intervened and no noise could be heard except the wind cheering on who knew what?

'Where are you from?'

The abrupt question took him by surprise. He looked at her, replying finally.

'London.'

'London?' she wrinkled her nose. 'Where is that? In Narnia?'

Peter laughed, sheathing his sword.

'No, My Lady. London is located in England.'

'England?'

Peter sighed.

'It's a country in Europe.' Catching her eye, he hastily replied. 'A continent.'

'Oh.' Isabella looked at him, curiously. 'Is it nice there?'

'Yes,' Peter replied, not knowing what to say. 'When there is no war going on there?'

'There's a war going on in your world?'

'Yes.'

'Oh.'

'How is it in Liriope?'

Isabella shrugged again.

'It's fun. Do you practice swordplay often?'

'Yes, whenever we get the time.' He looked at her warily. ' Do you know how to fight with a sword?'

Isabella grinned.

'I believe I am tons better than you.'

'Complete lie.' Peter turned his head away so that she would not know that he too was smiling.

'Let's see then shall we?'

He pulled out his blade lunging forward to be met by Isabella and her sword. Sparks flew and he moved back looking around for weaknesses. They circled each other, awaiting the other to strike first. Isabella, growing tired of waiting, twirled underneath striking his sword raised in defense. Peter forced her back, grinding his teeth. They moved around. One slashing, the other protecting. She was good. Somehow finding an opening in his defenses she lunged forward, the flat of her blade slamming into his ribs raising a spray of golden sand.

'A hit!' she said triumphantly. 'A palpable hit! Do you yield?'

'Barely palpable.' Peter growled, driving her back furiously, striking her blade. The sound of their colliding blade echoed wildly as their heated bodies steamed in the warm air. Finally Peter pivoted and struck Isabella's sword, a harsh blow that send her blade flying out of her hand. He came on grinning, backing Isabella towards the sea.

'So, My Lady, do you yiel-?' He yelped as Isabella punched his face. Reaching for her sword. 'Ouch!'

'No. I don't yield.'

Peter growled, touching his red cheek

'Was that absolutely necessary?'

Isabella smiled sweetly. Behind her shoulder he caught a glimpse of Edmund, running towards him. He was panting heavily, though whether from running or form fighting to control his laughter, Peter did not know.

'That was awesome!' Edmund complimented her, who smiled brightly. Turning to his brother, he let out a guffaw. 'You should have seen your face! I got beaten by a girl!'

Peter growled again, sending a threatening glare towards his younger brother.

'Not funny Ed!' He stalked away. 'Not funny at all.'

Isabella caught up with him, her hair flying around her shoulder, her cheeks flushed from heat. Peter ignored her.

'Will you keep making that face at me until I am here?' Isabella asked him raising an eyebrow.

'What face?' Peter asked in spite of himself. Isabella did not answer.

'Where did you learn sword fighting?' he asked finally, looking at her. Isabella grinned.

'With three elder brothers, you think I am supposed to be gentle and delicate and ladylike? No way!'

Peter fought back a smile, sitting down on the sand crossing his legs. He looked at Isabella expectantly.

'What do you do in your free time?'

'Oh, archery, painting and sword fighting.' She waved her hands

Peter raised his eyebrow.

'She does all that?' he thought to himself. 'That's a first.'

'You should come with us on our morning rides.'

'Oh, your sister already asked me to come.'

' Which one?'

'Queen Lucy.'

'Oh.' He stared at a distant watching the glistening sea. Isabella looked at him, indignantly.

'Hey, you stole my thing that I say!'

'What?' Peter asked her, clueless. Isabella rolled her eyes.

'Oh is my pet word.'

Peter looked at her as if she had dropped form another planet.

'She is completely different form the other ladies.' He scowled to himself. 'And very rude.'

Aloud he said.

'I think its time we should be getting back.'

Isabella shrugged, holding out a hand . Peter looked at it quizzically.

'Do you expect me to kiss it?'

Isabella's cheeks colored and she scowled.

'Oh you are such an annoying pervert!'

She stalked away, walking up towards the castle leaving Peter to stare after her.

What is it about her? Why is she so different?

His only answer was the laughing breeze and the singing sea.

…

Asha raised her head, focusing her bleary eyes and pained head. Her eyes were those of a hunted animal; hungry, dark and lean. Her thick lashes fluttered feebly, feeling heavy against her eyes. She glanced around her. Deserted strength rushed back to her slowly and shallowly. Moonlight flickered into the room through the large window. She gazed at it as of seeing it for the first time. She tried to stand up but fell against the wall panting. They had drained her of her energy. Yet she was recovering it. Though somewhat small. Gathering her bearings she walked unsteadily towards the widow, using the wall as a help. Her feet felt like lead, heavy weights upon her body.

Reaching the window she fingered the rusted clutch, trying to loosen it. Her fumbling fingers finally won, prying open the lock. Asha looked about, inhaling in the fresh breeze. How good it felt! She glanced down, observing the distance between the window and the mossy floor of the forest.

'Hm….' She thought wryly. 'Not much but still…..'

Carefully she hoisted herself up through the opening. Weight loss helped her and her chiseled features glowed in the moonlight. She put her foot down, forcing herself to move. Slowly she reached the ground, her feet finding the comforting red earth. She was breathing heavily by now, leaning against the wall. Flinging herself upright, she glanced around wary for guards. No one was in sight. Thank the stars!

She moved quickly and swiftly, her feet finding strength in the fact that she was free. Her joy did not last for long. The growling of angry creatures reached her ears. Her feet stilled.

'No….' she whispered. 'No….'

…

Another chapter done! Thank you for all the reviews! Keep them coming guys! I appreciate your comments….

A. L. Potter


	7. A Mask of Beauty

Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia or its characters. They belong to C. S. Lewis.

Forward March!

…

_Recap:_

_She moved quickly and swiftly, her feet finding strength in the fact that she was free. Her joy did not last for long. The growling of angry creatures reached her ears. Her feet stilled._

_'No….' she whispered. 'No….'_

…

Vladimar raised his covered feet and propped them lazily upon the antique table, standing nearby. The room was in semi darkness, the only light being the flames leaping in the fireplace. He rested his head back, yawning in mock boredom. Someone knocked at the door, breaking the stretching silence. His deep, dark blue eyes opened abruptly and narrowed sharply as he raised his voice calling out.

'Come in!'

The door opened, slightly as if the person was hesitating. Vladimar glanced at the person standing in the shadows, a sneer upon his handsome face.

'Well Heidi. I'm glad you could make it. Do come in.'

He gestured towards a chair nestled beside the lit hearth. Heidi stepped forwards, removing her dark hood and the dim light of the room fell upon her features. Her face was a reflection of radiance and perfection. Her dark eyes were shadowed by her smooth fair waves. She was tall and statuesque with a pointed chin and square cut jaw. She sank gracefully into the chair glancing at Vladimar through lowered lashes. He smiled to himself. Heidi would be perfect.

'You summoned me, my lord?' she asked nestling her pale hands in her lap. Vladimar looked at her carefully, a smirk growing upon his lips. He spoke up

'My pretty one, I have an important job for you.'

She glanced up quickly.

'A job? What kind of?'

'Patience.' He held up his hand. 'I need you to….ah….shall we say, seduce High King Peter?' He raised his eyebrows coyly. Heidi looked at him astonished.

'My lord….I do not understand.'

He sat up, all traces of humor gone. His eyes flashed oddly and Heidi flinched.

'Do you not? I am asking you to take that arrogant boy under your spell. Now do you understand?'

Heidi hesitated and whispered out.

'But my lord, they have already sent all the maidens back. What excuse will I have to offer?'

He glared at her violently and she ducked her head.

'That is your choice, my dear.' His voice turned sweet. 'You would not want me to force you, would you?'

Heidi winced and shook her head.

'But-'

'You shall leave at the first sign of daybreak.' He continued oblivious to her pained expression.

'But, my lord, he and that girl form Liviope are quite close.'

Vladimar stood up towering over her and she cowered in her chair holding her face in her hands as if to protect herself.

'I told you.' He hissed harshly. 'That is your job. Get out now.'

She stood up at once, fleeing from the room, her footsteps echoing away. The ghost of a smile went up on his face and he recline din his chair, his face hardening into bitterness and hatred.

…..

Hooves sounded upon the forest floor as the paws of the fine horses struck the mossy ground wet from the drizzle that morning. The sun was at work, bravely attempting to dry the forest but the shading canopy was not making it easy for it. The branches shook and the range of flowers fluttered as five horses came into view, with a pack of talking wolves at their feet. In the lead was Peter, his fair hair tousled, smiling. Edmund, close on his heels, grinned and shouted out.

'You are such a goner!'

Peter stuck his tongue out and Susan, her curls flying behind her and an ivory horn at her side, behind the two brothers called out.

'So are you, Ed!'

'Ha!' Edmund retorted. 'I'm so scared!'

Lucy's sweet laughter rang around the forest as she stared at her sibling's antics. She flapped the reins and the horse sped up, following Isabella's dark horse with its glossy mane. Isabella turned around and smiled brightly. Lucy nodded her head, a competitive gleam in her eyes. She pulled her horse into length with Isabella but the dark haired girl only increased her own speed, sticking her tongue out. Lucy laughed again, throwing back her mane of auburn hair, her light brown eyes twinkling. They sped on through the forest, their fine clothes glittering in the faint sunlight, their hair shining and their expression radiant.

Edmund grinned wider and allowed his horse to increase its speed, the hooves thudding across the ground. He turned his head to Lucy laugh at Isabella's actions and smiled. Those two would get along very well. The horses slowed to a trot as they were forced to go through a narrow opening of branches and shrubs and huge trees. Philip remained behind, slowing down and neighing. Edmund glanced at his quizzically and t the retreating back of his companions, disappearing through the thicket of greenery. After a moment's hesitation, Philip too followed them, trying to catch up to the others. He succeeded. Somewhat. Edmund looked around, narrowing his eyes as he caught sight of a banner of fair hair, damp and matted. He reined in calling to the others. They too stopped.

'Ed? What's wrong?' Susan asked, coming up to him. Edmund jerked his head to the east.

'I saw someone.'

Peter started his horse, biting his lips.

'Come on.'

They formed together to the girl lying between the moss covered rocks and stones, her face hidden in her arms. Isabella dismounted first, stepping towards the girl and gently turning her around. Her face was scratched and bruised and her hair sticky with blood. Her clothes were torn badly. Edmund stared at her, his heart lurching with pity. Isabella's emerald eyes widened and she cried out.

'Asha!'

…

Peter sat under the shade of the huge maple tree, his back against the large, gnarled trunk clad in a dark tunic, leggings and riding boots, Rhindon at his side. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes and so blocking out the star lit sky. He sighed, relaxing for the briefest moment.

Asha lay in one of the magnificently decorated guest chambers, under the care of Lucy and several other healers. A message had been sent to Dane in Liriope of Asha's safety. But the princes had not wanted to return in case of battle. The healers were hopeful that she would recover soon. At least they hoped. Peter heard the sound of his horse neighing nearby, roaming around and tasting the wet grass. He crossed his arms behind his head, shaking all thoughts from his head.

'Ouch!' He opened his eyes to see a hooded girl standing against the tree opposite him, rubbing her foot as if in pain. He stood up gracefully, moving next to her. She was quite pretty with long tresses of dark blond hair and dark eyes n her pale face but she was no where near compared to Isabella. He flushed. What was wrong with him? But whether he wanted to admit it or not, Isabella had captured his heart. To some extent. The girl glanced up, forcing a stray strand behind her ear. Peter stopped next to her, questioning.

'My Lady, are you alright?'

'Yes, thank you Your Majesty.' She replied standing up straight and letting her hood fall back. 'But I am dreadfully lost. Can you tell me my present location?'

'Cair Paravel.' He said kindly, offering her an arm. 'But perhaps you need some lodgings for the night? You could not possibly find your way home in this dark.'

'I don't have a home.' She blurted out. Peter raised an eyebrow.

'Then you will have to stay at the castle tonight. I insist.'

'Oh, I would not want to intrude.' She hesitated, masking the triumph dancing in her eyes. Peter smiled wanly.

'Not at all, My Lady.' She took his offered arm. 'Shall we?'

He assisted her upon the horse, wondering who the girl was. She flashed him a smile.

'I'm Heidi Valkov, Your Majesty.'

'Peter.' He replied absently. He wondered dimply whether it was just a coincidence that they had found two girls on the same day? Must be 'find roaming girls' day.

…

Lucy opened her cordial and carefully dropped a scarlet droplet in Asha's mouth. She stood back and replaced the top, watching Isabella's worried face intently. Lucy wiped her brow and touched her red hair, pulled back in messy bun, before asking her.

'You are friends?'

Isabella glanced up, a faint smile forming on her face.

'Closer. We are the best of the friends- sisters.'

'Is she from Liriope as well?'

Isabella shook her head, tucking a black lock behind her back. A fond smile placed itself upon her face.

'Asha was born in Avra, Long Islands. She was orphaned at a very young age. I met her at the age of six but we went of on the wrong foot. As the years passed we grew closer and closer. She celebrated our joys and our triumphs, cried in our pain, helped us in ruling and comforted us. She participated in our happiness, our unions, our ecstasy and also our pains, our grief and our sorrow. She loves Liriope as much as we do. She's family. '

Lucy was touched by the depth in Isabella's voice. So they were good friends. She watched the cuts and bruises on Asha's face fade as the potion did its magic.

'She'll pull through.' She said softly. 'Don't worry.'

Isabella glanced at her.

'Why should I worry when she has a healer like you, Lucy?' she teased lightly. Lucy's cheeks turned into two roses.

'Do you like my brother?' she asked abruptly. Isabella stared at her curiously.

'Which one?'

Lucy rolled her eyes, exasperatedly. Isabella laughed slightly.

'Of course Peter!'

'Well…' she said cautiously. 'Sometimes, when he's not acting like an arrogant big head.'

Lucy could not maintain a sober face and she giggled, looking at the doorway as Edmund knocked gently, his hair tousled.

'How is she?' he asked, keeping his eyes on Asha's face. Lucy smiled secretly to herself. He was truly taken with her. They would make a beautiful couple but Lucy did not dare voice it aloud. Edmund would murder her and later ask questions.

'She's alright.' She looked at Isabella's dancing eyes and knew that Edmund's attitude was apparent to her as well. 'Thank you, Edmund.'

If Edmund was surprised at her using his name he did not show it, smiling brightly at her and mock saluting her.

'My pleasure to help two such fine ladies.'

Isabella and Lucy glanced at each other knowingly before bursting into laughter. Edmund cocked his head to one side.

'What?'

'Nothing.' Lucy said stifling her laughter. 'Come. Let us go for dinner.'

'You go on.' Isabella said, waving away their protests. 'I'll catch you later.'

Lucy walked down the hall, her feet making quiet _thump, thump _noises. Edmund strode beside her and as they entered the dining pavilion she caught sight of a young, charming girl sitting at the table beside Susan, who was talking to her but it was obvious to Lucy that the girl held no taste for her sister and it was only her graciousness which made her pick up a conversation with the girl. Susan looked perfect as always.

'This is Heidi.' She said as soon as Lucy took her seat that Edmund pulled out for her. Edmund nodded silently while Lucy smiled stiffly, reaching for a roast bun across the table. She glanced at Peter, who looking up said.

'Where's Isabella?'

Edmund choked on his glass of Narnian refreshment and Lucy thumped him on the back, giggling. Susan arched a delicate eyebrow.

'She's with Asha.'

Heidi stiffened and drew in her breath but Lucy was the only one who noticed it. Heidi spoke up, her voice sweet.

'Who is Asha?'

Edmund cut across Susan, replying quietly.

'A close friend.'

Peter stared at Edmund but said nothing and Susan too noticing the tension intervened hastily.

'Come, Lady Heidi, I will show you to your chambers.'

As soon as she was out of earshot, Lucy burst out.

'Something's wrong with her!'

'Hmmm…' Edmund said absent mindedly. He stood up pushing his remaining dinner. 'I'm not hungry.'

'Me neither.' A smile lit Peter's face. 'A game of chess?'

'Oh you are so losing!' Edmund retorted and they strode out together, leaving Lucy behind, rolling her eyes.

_Boys…_

…..

AND Voila! Another chapter done! Sorry for taking so long but my computer broke and then it got a virus. So yeah…. Reviews please! I am currently working on another writing assignment and so it might take a little while to update. But I will! Kindly REVIEW!

A. L. Potter


	8. Shadow of Doom

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

Onward!

…

Isabella glanced nervously at the full length mirror in front of her, brushing her fingers through her long, silken locks. She stared at her reflection. Surely this pretty stranger was not her, with her long, astounding dress and long ribbons and charming smile? But it was. She twirled around slowly. Susan's work no doubt.

The apple green silk dress, falling to her ankles, with Narnian painting upon the front flattered her slender figure and her curled locks fell over her shoulder. Her pale skin, whiter than snow, clashed perfectly with the dress. The slight make up only enhanced her natural beauty. Somebody knocked on the door and looking up Isabella saw Susan enter. As always the young queen's beauty struck her sharply and her jaw hung slightly open. The Gentle queen truly looked radiant, a true queen. Her luxurious curls were held up on her poised head by a golden crown, made with molten flowers; her coronation crown, the mark of her rule. She was clad in an amethyst colored gown which sparkled in each change of light. It too was painted lovingly by the Narnians for their queen.

'You look beautiful.'

'Thank you.' Susan smiled, glancing at the stunning dress. Her eyes glowed luminously as if remembering fond memories. 'Peter says it makes my eyes sparkle, Edmund says that it makes my skin glow and Lucy…..Lucy loves it.'

Isabella smiled softly, her eyes taking on a little sadness as she thought of her own brothers and sister-in-law back at Liriope. Susan caught the poignant note in Isabella's emerald orbs and clapped her hands together, saying.

'It is time to go. Shall we?'

Isabella laughed and followed Susan out of the room, closing the door behind her. The halls shone with soft lamplight, by the exquisite lamps on the tall walls, lightening everything they touched. The sound of gay voices and laughter reached Isabella's ears long before she saw the ballroom. The marble floor shone brightly, reflecting the mood of the occasion and the crowd of nobility from around the lands colored the room. She met the rest of the siblings and Asha in a large hall made of glass walls. Asha had recovered greatly, thanks to Lucy's healing, and other than her exceptionally pale skin, she looked radiant. The ankle length, sea green dress, with its silvery sequins, set off her stormy, somber eyes making them sparkle and her straight silvery blond hair fell in their perfect lines to her back. Standing beside her Lucy looked equally pretty, clad in a pale gold dress with the top covered in dark golden beads. Her red hair was pulled in a messy bun on top of her head, with few curled strands behind her ear. Peter leaning against the banister, his eyes closed was wearing a blue colored tunic with black leggings, his glittering cape flowing behind him matching his beautifully carved crown, and mahogany boots, his glinting sword at his side and beside him Edmund was wearing an a tunic colored different shades of green with silver leggings and the same mahogany colored boots rising up inches beneath his knee. His cape was colored silver matching his crown, perched on top of his head. Heidi was not present as she had pleaded a headache and retired early to bed. Edmund glanced up, waving brightly at Isabella, who shot him a flashing smile. Peter opened his eyes, exchanging a glance with Susan. Susan raised a delicate eyebrow but said nothing. Lucy bounded up to them, with an elegance which would put the highest queen to shame and took Isabella's arms in her hands.

'Come on! Come on! Come on!' she exclaimed, gesturing towards the ballroom. Isabella glanced at the room full of people and shook her head slightly. She had never been comfortable at balls. Even in Liriope. Lucy rolled her eyes and playfully pushed her forward. Asha laughed, the voice tinkling and murmured under her breath. Isabella shot her a dark glare which her best friend ignored. A smile appeared on Susan's face at their antics. She glided forwards, motioning for Edmund and Peter to follow them. Isabella glanced pleadingly at Lucy but the younger girl only burst into gales of merry laughter. Isabella crossed her hands together and lifted her head as she walked down the hallway with guests at either side, her heart thumping loudly. They stared at her, their gazes united into one. Isabella swallowed the lump in her throat. Music played from a corner, the fauns playing their instruments. Many couples danced in the spacious space in the middle of the ball room. Peter came up beside Isabella, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

'Come. We will introduce you to the royals of Archenland.'

He led Isabella gently by the arm leading her to a fat, jolly man who looked like Santa Claus or what Isabella imagined him to be. He had a bushy beard and merry, sparkling eyes on his old face. He was clad in a dark purple velvet tunic and loose brown-gold pants. He was standing beside a pretty girl with a water fall of ebony hair and wide, proud dark eyes and straight nose. In her features, Isabella detected noble blood because of her haughty demeanor. She wore a long pure white dress of swishy material which trailed behind her. Towering over her was a handsome, young man with wisps of blond hair falling beneath his ears, a wide smile on his face. Next to him was a man identical to him, twins, Isabella presumed, but the second man was much more muscular and well built. Standing next to them, was Susan speaking in her quiet voice showing her true graciousness and hospitality. As Isabella and Peter drew nearer, the elder man turned around and shot a wry smile at Peter. He took Isabella's hands in his, kissing them gallantly.

'And you must be the famous Lady Isabella!'

Isabella felt color rise to her cheeks and she ducked her head, nodding. The man chuckled.

'Well, Peter, it seems you have found the perfect partner!' He turned to Isabella. 'I am King Lune of Archenland.'

Isabella smiled, shaking his outstretched hand.

'It's a pleasure to meet you, sir.'

'Likewise, My Lady.' He replied warmly. The woman beside him, flashed Isabella a friendly smile.

'Lady Isabella, you must come and visit Archenland. We would like to know you better.'

Peter rolled his eyes but he was smiling as the man next to the woman, moved forwards and took Isabella's hand, brushing it lightly with his lips.

'I am Prince Cor and this is my wife, Princess Aravis.'

'Don't forget me!' the muscled boy, Cor's twin, protested loudly. Cor smiled wryly. 'And this is my brother Prince Corin.'

Corin beamed.

'A pleasure to meet such a beautiful lady!'

Isabella felt that her cheeks must be on fire. Out of nowhere, Edmund appeared, his dark hair tousled.

'Now, now Corin, stop complimenting Lia or I shall think you are having _disgraceful _thoughts.'

Instead of being offended, Prince Corin laughed, thumping Edmund on the back. Aravis raised a delicate eyebrow, speaking softly.

'Lia?'

'Lady Isabella.' Susan explained, pushing back her glossy curls. She smiled politely bidding the royals farewell and glided away, her gown trailing behind her. Peter turned to Isabella, holding out his hand.

'May I, My Lady?'

Isabella sighed. She glanced at him in despair.

'Do I have to? I am _terrible_ at dancing.'

Peter had to bite his lip to keep from smiling and managed a solemn expression. He whispered to her.

'Nothing but my great chivalry can entice me to ask you to dance, My Lady.'

Isabella glared daggers at his head, her eyes flashing. Peter held up his hands in mock surrender, tilting his head to one side. Isabella sighed.

'Just get this over with.' She muttered, taking his hand. Peter smiled. He swept her on the dance floor, spinning her in circles and between twists, lifting her in the air. She hissed under her breath clutching his cape. Peter chuckled at her agony.

'Don't worry. I won't drop you.'

'I'm not worried about _you_ dropping me.' She retorted, 'I'm worried about _me _tripping myself.'

Peter could not restrain himself and he burst into laughter. She stared at him, her expression injured.

'I'm not joking!' she exclaimed, swatting at him. Peter caught her wrist and with difficulty managed to stop chuckling.

'I never said you were.'

As the Narnian melody slowed down and stopped, Lucy went up to Peter tapping him on the shoulder. She smiled brightly.

'Don't I get my dance?'

Peter laughed and disentangling himself from Isabella he bowed and gestured to Lucy.

'Of course, Sir!' Isabella waved her hand. 'You're lady is waiting.'

She walked away, clasping her hands together as Peter and Lucy danced around in a graceful circle as the faun's struck up another tune. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Edmund and Asha next to King Lune and his sons and daughter-in-law. She smiled to herself as Edmund's face lit up while Asha looked equally radiant. They would make a beautiful couple. She hoped desperately that her long suffering friend would at last find happiness with the Just king. Her feet felt laden and she shuffled to a corner, sinking gratefully in a seat watching the world through shadows. As her emerald orbs, darkened to forest green, blinked for the briefest second she felt a sharp pain in her head. The suddenness and sharpness caused her to cry out softly. She clutched her head, rubbing her temples. Flashes shot through her head at an alarming rate but she was able to make out all of them.

_Ginevra stood on top of the cliff, her long hair flying wildly like a chestnut banner, overlooking the courtyard of Liriope, her right arm pulled back, her eyes narrowed as she took an aim. The arrow let out a whooshing sound as it flew against the wind stabbing an armored man. He fell down, his hand rising to his bloodied chest. Ginevra did not lose time and again and again she struck her bow, shooting into the enemy lines._

Isabella gasped out, her vision swimming. She dropped her head in her arms. She doubled over as another vision appeared to her.

_Dane wove his sword in complex patterns, slashing and stabbing, shaking his head to toss the hair out of his eyes. His sword, glinting in the sun, flying a deadly arc stabbing a man. Within seconds he had cleared a great space around him. A yell sounded above his head and he turned around, inquiry upon his face. She saw horror on Ginvera's face, frozen._

She stood up, suddenly, and the quick movement made her lose her balance. She clutched the chair, her knuckles turning white as her face went paler and paler. She moved swiftly out of the ball room, the laughing voices echoing in her ears together with the clash and clang of swords and the whooshing of arrows. She cried out, leaning against the wall to the empty hallway.

_A small child gazed up out of the shadows of his bed as the door banged wildly, almost flying off his hinges. His mother screamed, caught in the act of hiding her young daughter, holding a new born baby in her arms. The boy covered his ears but his widened eyes missed nothing as the enemy forced their way into the house, slamming his mother against the wall. Her screams for mercy pierced the air as the other streamed around throwing the wailing baby against the door. The boy tried to close his eyes but he could stills see everything, hearing his younger sister's screams and shrieks and his mother's pleas. Then it stopped and the men stormed out, laughing, smirking leaving death in their path. And as the boy made to get out, the roof collapsed in a whirl of bricks, stones, dust and concrete. The boy cried out, covering his head with his hands as the bed gave out and everything toppled upon him and his dead family._

She did not know how she made it to her room, her hair flying around her, her face stricken. She flung the door shut and it banged loudly. Before she could reach her bed, she fell to the ground, crying out again as her head pained sharply. What was going on?

_Cries rang around the battlefield as the setting sun caused the silver armors to glint. Clanging sounded as sword met sword, face to face in the last showdown, which would determine the victor. Screams, shrieks pierced the cool air as the hilted swords, raised high, came down upon enemies….. _

'Lia!' Asha's alarmed cry entered her mind and within seconds, Asha's cold arms went around drawing her close. 'What is it?'

Isabella glanced up, through her bangs to see Asha's worried eyes. She smiled weakly, trying to sit up.

'I'm alright.' Her voice was so faint, it frightened her. Her blurry vision focused to see Lucy leaning over her, frowning; her expression concerned and behind her in the hallway stood Peter, his face white and anxious. Isabella closed her eyes and Asha murmured soothingly, patting her hot forehead. 'Really. It's nothing.'

'Oh yes. We could hear your cries down the hall.' She did not have to open her eyes to see Peter's sarcastic expression. 'That's nothing, really.'

Her eyebrows came together in a rush and seeing her eyes flutter open and glare at him, Peter smiled.

'Now you're well. I can see by your scowl.'

Lucy rolled her eyes but her relief was evident and she ran her fingers through Isabella's hair. Asha spoke up, quietly.

'What happened, Lia?'

'I…I do not know.'

Lucy glanced back at Peter who was frowning heavily, leaning against the doorway. He sighed and met Isabella's eyes.

'We'll talk later.'

'I can't believe I'm saying it but I agree with Big Head over there.' Isabella sat up, nodding swiftly. Lucy giggled and Asha wore a faint smile on her ruby red lips.

'Excuse me?' Peter said indignantly. 'I_'

'Oh shut up!'

…

Lorien glanced up, shielding his eyes from the rising sun. The man standing beside him, lunged at him but in a swift movement Lorien stepped aside and brought his sword straight at the man's back ending his life. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ginevra's vibrant hair, flying abundantly in the soft early morning breeze, a banner of red. She drew back her arm and shot the aimed arrow and Lorien turning around saw a man collapse at his feet. He could have sworn he saw her dim smile. The hours had fled quickly and smoothly, not leaving a trace behind. It seemed as if the battle had been going on forever. He raised his sword and lunged forwards, his sword slashing and stabbing anyone within reach. The warriors of Liriope were few in numbers while the invading enemies were endless; their numbers were immortal. No matter how many he killed, they seemed to come back. All of them. Line after line of glinting armor with sharp swords and pierced daggers. He spun around under their defenses clearing a great space around him. Desperation plucked him. They were too short in numbers. Many were fatally injured, others still fighting, fighting to the end for what was theirs. For the first time, Lorien felt comradeship with his people. They too were fighting for Liriope, shedding their blood for their land, for swelling acres and their ancient homes. Just as he was. They marched out, yelling, shouting, and plunging their weapons into the hearts of anyone who threatened them. They were one. He moved his sword in complex movements and turned only when he heard someone scream his name, inquiry plain upon his face. His eyes widened as the blade flew in a deadly arc, coming straight at him. He raised his sword in defense and felt blade meet blade and looking up he met Vladimir's scarlet eyes, filled with hatred and amusement. He grinned, showing off his sharp teeth.

'Lorien! Pleasure.'

…

The doors leading to the castle burst open and the retreating warriors fled in, bloody, exhausted. Some collapsed on the way, others staggered to the main hall filled with the wounded. In the midst of it, James glanced around for his brothers and sister-in-law but he did not see them anywhere. For an instant he thought he saw Ginevra's red hair in the crowd but it disappeared.

'James! James!'

He turned around, too tired to feel relief at the sight of his elder brother. Lorien was paler than snow; a long gash ran down the length of his cheek but for all his wounds it seemed to James that his brother was enjoying himself. He gestured to an empty room lit by lamps.

'Come. Everyone is there.'

'Everyone?' James asked, heart in his throat. Lorien looked ill at ease as he answered.

'Ginny. She's…she's missing.'

James felt a lump in his throat. Ginny? That fun loving girl with the sweetest, brightest personality? Not her. Anyone but her. Tears formed in James's eyes, though if they were from soot and dust or sorrow and pain he did not know. Lorien patted his shoulder but looking up James saw his brother's young face all in bitter, harsh lines.

They walked in together. The room was indeed lit by the few available lamps and in the faint light, James saw Dane's dust streaked face, his eyes filled with grief. He was leaning over a battle map with some of his highest commanders there. Their clothes were torn, their faces bloody, their bodies exhausted. Dane seemed to be explaining something to them and as James and Lorien neared he dismissed the others so that only the three brothers were left in the room. Lorien gazed at him, bewildered by the abrupt dismissal. Dane smiled faintly.

'Lorien, James, I have made a decision and I order you, as your king not your brother, to abide it.'

They looked at each other, their eyes flashing with surprise. Dane crossed his arms behind his back and walked around the room. He spoke up.

'I won't lie to you. They have us. They will win so do not despair over this. For now we have important things to discuss.'

'Such as?' Lorien asked, rubbing his forehead tiredly. 'What's the plan?'

'There is no plan.' The swiftness of the answer made James recoil back. He looked from Dane to Lorien. 'But take heart from this. We will die but never surrender.'

And as the sun rose for the second time over the war torn Liriope, it did not rise to embrace a civilization, it rose to see the destruction and fall of a mighty country but with the new dawn hope in the shape of two young men, fled away to hide until they could revive their homeland..….

…

Ta da! Now the story begins. Reviews please! I was sad to see only one review for the last chapter. But no matter! But I do request you to give me your opinion. Thanks!

A. L. Potter


	9. The Sybil's Prophecy

**Author's Note:** I apologize for taking so long to update. But I had a busy, busy schedule. I apologize again. But fear not! I shall continue this story until the end…..Hopefully…..Probably….

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

…

'We should stop here.'

Peter dismounted from his elegant mount, his cloak flying. Isabela jumped down too, her expression distasteful as she glanced around.

'Not what you're used to, princess?' Peter asked sarcastically, catching her expression.

'You're one to talk, _my king_.' She shot back. 'I can scarcely imagine you living in a simple house.'

Peter did not answer. Isabela glanced at him curiously.

'I am right, am I not?'

'You cannot always be right, My Lady. No one is perfect.'

Isabela raised a delicate eyebrow, moving ahead of him and glancing around. A thick forest engulfed them from all around. Green leaves fluttered around on long, gnarled branches, clawing the invisible air. There was no sound. Not even the screeching of an eagle. Isabela glanced around nervously, dragging her feet over the mossy ground. She pricked her ears as she heard the rustling of leaves. Something or someone was behind her. She turned around, narrowing her eyes. Her heart was in her throat and she saw a small shadow.

Suddenly she felt a tug on her hand and she let out a shriek of surprise. The thing holding her hand to bounded back. She glanced down through her silken hood, into the face of a young boy. He was barely nine with full, white cheeks and dark blond hair falling into his dancing eyes surrounded by purple bruises and long, long lashes. He gazed up at her.

'Are you an angel, My Lady?'

'What?' Isabella asked, tucking a strand behind her ear nervously. The boy beamed turning over the toy in his hand.

'An angel. People say that the moon reflects on their faces and they are so beautiful that the trees themselves sigh as they pass by.'

Isabella raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly. Peter guffawed. She shot him a glare.

'You're an odd child. How do you know so much?'

'My mother told me that. I'm Adam. Who are you?'

Isabella glanced at Peter, who scrambled through the bushes trying to catch his breath. He surveyed Adam gravely. Isabella touched Adam's cheek lightly.

'I'm Lia and this is Peter.'

Adam bowed his head, smiling politely at Peter.

'Do you live here, Adam?'

'Over there.' He pointed to a large cluster of poplar trees, swaying sorrowfully in the wind. A small thatch hut lay beneath it, with straw and occasional pieces of wood. Adam took her hand leading her to the hut.

'Come, Lia. I want you to meet my mother.'

'I would be honored Adam.' She signaled to Mr. Tumnus to join them. He scurried forwards, muttering. 'Do you live alone, you and your mother?'

Adam nodded silently. Peter clapped him lightly on the shoulder.

'Do you go to school?'

'No. I work here.'

Isabella stopped abruptly meeting Peter's eyes.

'You're a servant?'

'I'm a human being! Like you!' Adam said angrily. 'I have the same feelings as you! I am no different!'

'I'm sorry, Adam.'

He relaxed slightly, trying to bring forth a smile. Patting her hand, he hurried forwards, calling excitedly:

'Mother! Mother! Come! Look!'

The front door creaked and a woman stepped out, clad in a stiff gray dress, spreading around her, embroidered ever so slightly around the edges. She had a heart shaped face, high cheekbones and full lips. Her gray eyes were wide and shadowed by inky lashes. She smiled holding out her arms for Adam. He rushed to her, like a hurricane and she kissed his red cheek.

'Mother, this is Lady Lia and Sir Peter.' He motioned to them. 'This is my mother, Shmi Varens.'

'What a pleasure to meet you.' Shmi smiled. Her voice was rich and her accent smooth. Peter bowed, brushing her hand lightly with his lips.

'Likewise, Lady Shmi.'

She seemed fond of smiling and the dimples beside her lips and the wrinkles beside her eyes suggested so. She gestured to the small house, placing her hands on Adam's shoulders. Isabela glanced at Peter who was surveying their surrounding, the rustling bushes and the tall trees. He caught her eye and nodded slightly. They followed Shmi and Adam into the house bending low to avoid bumping their heads.

It was a humble and simple dwelling. There were only small blankets spread out on the floor to sleep on and a small table set with wild flowers in another room. As soon as they entered a small dog came bounding to them. Golden in color and friendly in manner it twirled around the newcomers, licking their hands.

'You live here?' she asked gazing around her.

'Yes.' Shmi answered, bustling around and bringing forth a small tray set with tea cups.

'Madam, please, we do not wish to be a burden on you.' Peter said, helping her to set it around.

'It is no problem.' She replied, gesturing to them to settle down. Adam came running in sitting beside Isabela.

'Lia, where are you from?'

'We are from Narnia.' Peter replied smoothly. 'We are here to visit some relatives.'

'You are married?' Adam asked curiously, his eyes wide. Shmi shot him a stern glance as she caught their deep blushes.

'Adam…it is not our place to ask such a question.'

Isabela shook her head.

'No, Adam. We are not married. We are….cousins.'

'Oh…But you look good together.'

'Adam! Hush!'

Heat flooded Isabela's cheeks. Shmi took Adam in her lap, scolding him silently.

'But it's true!' he protested. Peter grinned, running a hand through Adam's hair ruefully.

'You _are_ a sharp young boy.'

Adam beamed, waving his small fists about. Shmi smiled lightly, glancing at the visitors.

'Why have you stopped so far from the city? Rarely do people stop here, in the wilderness.'

'We…we heard of an attack on Liriope.' Isabela hesitated. 'Is it true?'

Shmi's face was impassive, her expression thoughtful

'I'm sorry, young one. I do not know, for we live so far away. But…..my employer has not contacted me for a long time. It is most unlike him. But why do you ask?'

'We do not wish to attract unwanted attention.' Peter replied. 'And-'

He stopped. Isabela heard it too. The faint voices, the harsh orders. In stunned silence her eyes met Peter's. His hand flew to his sword and he jumped up, rushing out of the hut. Isabela followed close behind, only just managing to stop tripping over her cloak.

By the time she untangled herself, she could see dozens of soldiers rushing on Peter and towards the hut.

She scrambled to pull out her sword, lunging blindly. It was a wild theory but effective. The soldiers inched away from her as her sword managed to gash them some place or else.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Adam's small frame practically dancing through the soldiers. He was an excellent warrior and many fell back as he approached. His weapon glinted and Isabela saw that it was a knife. Her eyes widened.

Only the swiftest and most cunning warriors could use a knife so effectively. Panting Peter lunged to Adam's group of enemies. Several flew away, rushing away into the thicket of trees. Isabela made to move after them but Peter called.

'Don't! They may have reinforcements!'

'But they'll alert the guards to double the security!'

'They're no guards.'

Peter knelt down on the ground and Adam leaned above him, his expression excited. Isabela huffed but settled beside them as well. She saw a bag of gold, heavy and bulging. Her eyes met Peter's.

'They're thieves!' she whispered. 'Gamblers!'

Shmi moved up beside them, biting her lip.

'Gamblers are not uncommon in these parts. They must have been searching for treasury.'

But Isabela could see that Peter thought differently.

'We'd better move on.' He said, standing up and brushing his tunic. He offered a hand to Adam.

'So long, little one.' He nodded politely to Shmi. 'Farewell , My Lady.'

'We thank you for your hospitality.' Isabela added. She took Adam's hands in hers.

'Goodbye, Adam. I hope I see you again.'

Adam beamed, moving up beside his mother.

'I hope that too, my lady!'

…

Isabella leaned against the half broken pillar. Her green orbs scanned the grounds, like a hungry cat. Her heart rose to her throat and she felt her eyes sear violently. Liriope…..Destroyed….shattered….it couldn't be. She clenched her fists until she could feel the nails cutting across her flesh. People were spread out over the burned grounds, sitting on blankets, wailing, screaming for their loved ones and some staring off somewhere, anywhere… She felt a warm hand clasp her shoulder and she looked up into Peter's eyes, stretching away forever like a sea.

'We should move on.' He murmured. 'We could be recognized.'

Self consciously, Isabela withdrew into the shadows of her thick cloak with the finest Narnian embroidery on the sleeves. She followed Peter as he slinked off, sharp as a predator, his eyes searching the grounds. Her eyes fell around her. The scene was terrifying. She could feel her people's anguish. Her own despair. Each glance reminded her of her grandfather's sacrifices to regain the land, her grandmother's bravery, her father's determination, her mother's tact, Dane's perception, Ginevra's diplomacy, Lorien's knowledge, James's gentleness. All they had done for Liriope. It was all gone.

Angrily, she touched her eyes, wiping away the invisible tears. Peter gestured to her to move on. She could feel his sympathetic but impatient glance at the back of her head.

The town square was a picture of destruction. Wood splinters lay everywhere, scattered glass and cement stones lying limply over the ground.

Isabela glanced around fretfully. Beside her she felt Peter tense. Her eyes caught sight of a few men weaving their way through the people. In stricken silence her eyes met Peter's. Soldiers! He mouthed. Certainly not thieves. Isabela ducked out of their sight, pushing her way into a low roofed dwelling, still standing erect. It was covered with lichens and mossy ferns. Peter ducked in behind her, his blond head nearly banging against the door way in his hurry.

'I'm starting to regret coming here.' She muttered. Peter glared at her.

'I'm starting to regret ever volunteering to come. And with you! Oh the horror!'

Out of breath, she bent against the wall. She barely registered soft footfalls until a voice floated in.

'Either way you were unwise to come here in broad daylight, Your Highness.'

She glanced up. A hooded, young girl stood there, her hands clutching a tray bearing burned cookies. She could see soft flashes of blond in her hair. The girl smiled, setting down her tray. Her thin frame seemed unnaturally bony in the waves upon waves of velvet cloak.

'I'm Siobhan Wolfheart.'

What a fitting name, Isabela mused. She certainly seemed like a wolf. Beautiful, frightening yet mysterious all the same. Peter cleared him throat. Siobhan glanced at him, surprised as if only noticing him now.

'And High King Peter! I did not see you, Your Majesty. A great mistake on my part, I fear.'

Peter harrumphed, shaking his head.

'Are the soldiers gone?'

'I would not say so, no.' she replied peeking out through the window. 'But it is better if you wait until nightfall to go to the palace.'

She bent down and waved her hands.

'Chai.' She said clearly and immediately the cups filled with green tea, swimming around like a greenish, lucid moat. She raised an eyebrow, gesturing towards the cups. Isabela held back. She could be an enemy. Easily. And she knew them so well… As if she had read Isabela's thoughts, Siobhan smiled knowingly.

'I am not a traitor though I am many _other_ things….'

Her voice trailed off darkly. Isabela's eyes fell on the candles set around the roo, some lit, others waxed out in exclusive patterns. Siobhan brightened.

'I will tell you your destiny….that which I can see. Come.'

Nervously, they glanced at one another. Siobhan had already settled down and she tugged at Isabela's hand observing it with an ardent eye.

'I see…great things in store for you. An epic romance shall twirl around you, many trees of life will wither and die…..friends…..relatives…..family…..You will loose many and find many….and lose those too. In the end you shall be alone no matter what….but wait…..I still see a flicker, a hope…'

'What?' Isabela asked bewildered but stricken. Trees of life? No more? Does that mean death?

'I cannot say.' Siobhan whispered finally. 'It is done.'

'Who will die? Who?' Isabela nearly shouted from panic. Siobhan glanced at her, a tight look about her.

'I cannot say, My Lady. Perhaps the High King can tell us for, for certain your fate's are entwined…..but never joined.'

'What are you talking about? Why speak in riddles?' Peter asked her, his eyes narrowed and cold. 'I do not believe you.'

A faint smile appeared on Siobhan's pale face. She offered him her hand.

'Seers often speak in riddles. It is our destiny.'

Peter stared at her apprehensively but he agreed none the less. Siobhan did not speak for the longest time.

'I see many things for you….same as your companions…..you shall rule magnificently, as is your title but your heart will remain open to many. But beware, High King, you shall be fooled by someone and because of that you will lose someone, someone special…..Be careful…And just for that I have given you the benefit of qualm. Don't mess up.'

She smiled and got up, swirling to the door and she pulled it open.

'Everything is clear now!' she said brightly. 'You are free to go. I won't keep you.'

Peter stared at her, clearly put on by her strange attitude.

'Come on, Big Head!' Isabela hissed. 'We haven't got all day.'

'After you, _Princess_.' He said sarcastically, holding open the door for her. She shook her head and ducked out; ignoring Peter's muttering ad mumbling.

…

'Princess Lia!'

'Saberhagen!'

Isabela threw herself in the old man's arm, his wispy goatee tickling against her head. She could have wept with joy. Saberhagen. One of the links to the old days. Her father's trusted friend, his fellow commander.

'Huff! You will leave an old man with no breath at all!'

Out of the corner of her eye, Isabela saw Peter nod his head respectfully and Saberhagen bowed down.

'My King.'

'My Lady, if it is of no concern to you, I shall be returning to my homeland now.'

'Why should I be concerned by your safety?'

Peter scowled at her before slipping out of the huge room, his shadow lurking behind him. Isabela turned to the plump, old man.

'Where are my brothers? And Ginny? Where are they?'

She was sure she saw Saberhagen gulp and his eyes became solemn, his voice grave.

'We…Your Highness….we found no sign of Lorien and James. None at all. But,' he added hastily. 'We are sure they are alive and not captives of the enemy.'

'Then where are they?' Isabela asked, fear and anxiety coursing through her.

'We do not know.' Saberhagen admitted unhappily. 'I'm sorry, My Lady.'

'But what of Dane and Ginny?'

'Lady Ginevra suffered extreme injuries from a poisonous dagger. She…she lost her children…'

'She's dead?' Saberhagen marveled at Isabela's self control. She was a princess through and through. He nodded, his eyes filling up with tears.

'How did she die?'

'She smiled and said your name. Will you come upstairs, My Lady?'

Slowly, Isabela wound her way up the velvety stairs, moving as if every step was painful. Dane. Where was he?

'Where is the King, Saberhagen? Take me to him.'

Saberhagen looked troubled but he obliged, weaving through the various halls. At last he stopped abruptly, watching her intently.

'My Lady….you should know….'

Isabela did not listen to him. She pushed open the door, pulling back her hood, her dark locks fluttering about her shoulders. She stopped short and her face drained of all color.

Dane glanced up tiredly, his face weary and battered, his hair standing in all directions. An almost unworldly smile lit up his face when he focused in on her.

'Lia.' He murmured through sharp gasps of breath.

Isabela knelt next to him, taking her hand in his.

'Yes. Yes. It is me Dane. '

Dane searched her face anxiously. He's not afraid of dying, Isabela realized bitterly. He's afraid what will happed to me after he dies.

'Do not grieve, Lia.' He said softly. 'My time has come. I am thankful I lived long enough to see your face once again.'

He gasped out, his breathing raspy and labored. His eyes flashed as he gazed dreamily to the painted ceiling.

'I am going to them, Lia. And you, darling sister of mine, shall come to us.'

His hand fell limp in hers and his parted eyes closed, his lashes fluttering. Isabela stared at him, unable to see, unable to cry. No. No! A part of her screamed. It could not be. Fog clouded her vision. No. No. No! In a flash Siobhan's words came back to her. Death…..she had spoken of death….Isabela reflected back.

She was unaware of Saberhagen's gentle words, distant voice soothing her. She knelt her face beside Dane and the tears began to flow freely. Somewhere, someplace she heard a lion's magnificent roar and its final echoes rang around the room. It was over.

…

Ta da! Finally! Reviews please! I would greatly appreciate them!'

A. L. Potter


	10. Vengeful Fate

I apologize to all my reviewers for making them wait for so long. But as usual I was incredibly busy studying for my mid years. Furthermore thank you to all my reviewers who take the time out to post their comments and advice. Thank you all. Anyways Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** The Chronicles of Narnia do not belong to me. They belong to C. S. Lewis.

Isabela stared, staring yet unseeing as Dane's and Ginerva's caskets were bore by their pallbearers through the streets of the capital city of Corde. Her face was white and swollen. She had been crying for what? Hours maybe? Years it seemed.

Night had fallen on the land and the spidery trees, tall and gnarled, extended their claws in the darkness like the claws of a witch. Her slender figure was woven in a black dress, her long locks pulled into a fashionable coiffure. Her face was pale and her eyes swollen and surrounding by dark bruises which were stunning in contrast with her death like skin. The faint lights from the houses glittered into the night sky, like fairy lights hanging from the sky. Tiny droplets fell from the sky as if the heavens themselves were crying.

The rain gathered on her lashes and when she blinked they streamed down her face, making it seem as though she was weeping. Many people in the crowd were openly shedding tears. The new moon was hidden behind the grey clouds gathered together to celebrate the upcoming storm. She shivered clutching her fists against her sides.

Royalty and nobility from far and wide had attended the funeral. King Lune from Archenland, his face overcast along with his sons Prince Corin and Prince Cor, muscled and handsome with the tall and statuesque Princess Aravis. Though the Tisroc of Calormen had been unable to attend he had sent his son Prince Rabadash. And Isabela had hit off splendidly with him. If that included a strong urge to punch him and break his beloved nose.

Many neighbouring kings had sent their regret and expressed their sorrow as well but Isabela could see through their sad masks. Their hearts were dancing. Anytime now the wolves would attack. King Ashkan had come, another one of her father's general and a truly kind man, a great king. Isabela saw his round face bowed, fallen into lines of misery. Thousands of Dane's soldiers had journeyed for his funeral. His commanders, his generals, his lieutenants. All were there. Beside her walked Saberhagen in his over large robes, miserable and sad. Sola, Ginerva's sister and her two young, pretty nieces, Ilona and Elena were walking next to her, their dark gold curls weaving over their shoulders. Sola's face was puffy and red, her impossibly long blond hair unkempt. Over the years, thousands of time, she had protested that Ginerva worked too hard and did not care for herself. But Ginerva had always laughed and replied that her happiness lay with the happiness of the people of Liriope. Sola caught Isabela's eye and managed a small smile. Isabela barely saw her. At that time she felt a soft hand on her shoulder and looking up saw Lucy's face. Due to the increasing alliances only Lucy had been able to come out of all four siblings.

Hundreds of locals surrounded the streets their glazed eyes following the caskets, holding up blazing lanterns specks of light set against the night. Ginerva's red locks flowed over her shoulders set with beautiful white blossoms, her eyes closed, her hands folded and a tender smile on her lips. Dane was clad in midnight blue robes, his hair pulled into a short ponytail and his face stern yet peaceful. Isabela's eyes could not leave his face. Lorien…..James…..she thought. Where were they? Were they even alive?

Finally they stopped. Isabela's feet felt like lead and she dragged them restlessly, trying to maintain her posture. A small man no higher than Isabela's waist, with tufts of white hair stepped on the raised platform. He cleared his throat and spoke.

'Today…..we have gathered here to say our last farewells to our beloved king Dane II and his wife, Queen Ginerva. Their valiance, their determination, their honesty and their kindness struck a deep core within our hearts. …..Through they are gone, they shall remain immortal for their deeds made them invincible from all including death. Those who knew them shall always remember them no matter where they are. Their memories will live on forever. Farewell, Your Majesties.'

Isabela lost track of what he had said. Saberhagen nudged her slightly and Isabela snapped out of her trance. She walked to Dane's casket and bowing her head she managed to say.

'Dane, my dear brother…Ginerva, my beloved sister….g…goodbye.' she managed to choke out before stepping back. The small man raised his hand and murmured some words. Neatly, dirt placed itself on the caskets, taking them away from view. Isabela flinched.

'Come on, My Lady.' Saberhagen murmured. And somehow she managed to reach the castle, she didn't remember how. All she knew was that her heart was hollow and her eyes blurred. A cold wind blew around. Isabela shivered. Why did you leave me at the mercy of these wolves?

'What is going to happen now, My Lady?' Sade asked, clad in her elaborate robes of peacock blue and glistening violet, her hood lowered over her dark hair pulled into a bun. The resemblance between Isabela and her was masked by their eyes. Sade's were tilted and hazel while Isabela's were green, wide and tended to change shades. Isabela stared out of the window, from her room on the topmost floor.

'I don't know.' She replied monotonously. Iona, the youngest of her handmaidens, jumped up and down, in her similar robes. Her syllables were smooth and her voice rich with accent.

'It is your duty to know, My Lady. You are queen now.'

'I am not.' Isabela replied. 'I intend to give the crown to King Ashkan. He truly deserves it.'

Instantly, Sade and Iona started an uproar, protesting violently.

'But, My Lady, it is rightfully yours!'

'You are the queen! You must be!'

'There is no must about it.' Isabela said gently. 'My reasons for giving up the throne are many. He is favoured by many. By the principles of democracy, he is the ruler.'

'My Lady-'

'Please, Sade, I too intend to fight Liriope's enemies. But not as a queen, as an outsider, as a commoner. Liriope is a democratic nation and it shall be so forever.'

Sade bowed her head, her spare locks falling in her face.

'Yes.' She agreed. 'We shall go by what you say, My Lady. But, I need no seer to tell me that one day you will be queen.'

Isabela forced a smile.

'But that day is very far away.'

'Not very.' Iona said quietly. She opened her mouth to say more but was cut off by the glass doors sliding open. Saberhagen walked in followed by a tall man, his face wrinkled and gnarled but his eyes sharper than knives and more malicious than one could imagine.

'Your Highness, Sir Cainel would like a word.'

Cainel walked in; smiling sweetly like a python before it lunges at you. His face betrayed nothing of the hatred he felt for the young girl standing in front of him. Isabela felt Sade and Iona sashay behind her, their faces shadowed, their robes swirling around their slim figures.

'Cainel.' Isabela said stiffly, staring at his face, her face impassive and emotionless. 'What news do you bring?'

'My Lady.' He inclined his head. 'I am afraid I bring very grave news. The Imperial Senate has refused to accept our request to bring Vladimar to justice. They believe that we, as the victims, are greatly hallucinating and, in their words_ putting in false claims.' _

'Or you have not worked hard enough.' Isabela corrected sharply. 'It is a matter of reasoning.'

'I fail to see the logic behind your reasoning, Your Highness.' He replied forcing a smile. 'But I can ensure you that I have tried to convince my fellow delegates of this invasion. They however wish to seek a proper investigation into this matter to conform if our suspicions are true.'

'They are not suspicions, they are facts.'

'None the less, they want to loge a month long investigation committee.'

'Our people have been _murdered, _Lord Cainel_._ We must do something _quickly_.'

'I believe our best interest is to lie low and to accept Vladimar's control.'

'That is something I cannot do.' Isabela replied coldly.

'My lord.'

Vladimar smiled disdainfully, tinkling his goblet sideways so that the wine slipped down in tiny droplets of blood red. The arched cave rose high above him, casting its huge shadow everywhere. Bats hung upside down from the rough branches, their eyes hungry. The servant scurried in, barely breathing.

'My lord, Rranar is here. He requests your presence.'

'Tell him to come in here. I am not willing to move from here.' He fingered the goblet.

'He…...he refuses to do so, my lord.'

Vladimar rose to his feet, his face cloaked in fury. He leaned next to the servant who trembled violently.

'What did you say?'

'He….he refuses to come to you, my lord' the servant replied naively. Vladimar's hand twitched and the servant fell down to the floor in a heap, his head lolling. He motioned to a guard.

'Call Rranar. Order him to come here or…..' he smiled, exposing his fangs. The guard rushed off, tripping over the servant in his haste.

He snapped his fingers impatiently. Stupid fools….Within a few seconds he heard a mighty rumbles shake the entire cave. He sighed dramatically, rising to his feet elegantly as a huge giant walked in, groaning with each step. A brown sack was wrapped around it, protecting it from the bitter cold of the mountains.

'Vladimar!'

'Lord.' He put in smoothly. Rranar roared.

'You insolent human! What have you come for? Speak up!'

'Foolish giant.' He replied icily. 'Do you know have any idea what I can do if I wish?'

He quietened immediately. Vladimar smiled silkily, stroking his cuffs. This would certainly be interesting…..

Susan Pevensie sighed, brushing back her black ringlets, pulled back with a beautiful aeilss flower, its petals alternating between closing and blooming. She rubbed her temples tiredly. Vladimar's conquest in the north had affected the treaties between many nations. What with alliances and delegations and diplomacy, she had her hands full! The mahogany doors echoed with a knock.

Glancing up she caught sight of her younger brother. Edmund smiled at her, lightly touching her shoulder.

'Dearest sister, you may be said to be the most desired woman over all lands but I'd change it to you being a ghost with long, _long_ hair and a tendency to continually haunt me.'

Susan battled between her desire to laugh and to punch him but it ended with a small smile. Her brother was so dear; despite his occasional cruel jokes and humorous statements. She glanced affectionately at him. Catching her eye Edmund eyed her suspiciously.

'What are you thinking, Su?'

Susan laughed, her rich voice echoing around the walls. Lucy wandered in through the half opened door, a confused smile on her face, her deep red locks pulled into a messy bun. She was bewildered but she laughed none the less.

'Where is the High King?' Edmund asked, raising his eyebrows. 'Surely he cannot be late!'

'No.' Lucy agreed. 'Perhaps I should go and see-'

She stopped mid sentence as a thoroughly disgruntled Peter entered the vast chambers. His crown was tilted and his hair stood up to form what Susan considered to be the highest peak of the world.

'You called, dear sister?' he asked absentmindedly kissing Lucy's cheek. His hair was tousled badly. Lucy glanced nervously at her elder siblings. The apprehension and hesitation was clear in her eyes.

'Yes, Peter. But do sit first. Shall I call for tea?' Susan offered. Without giving him a chance to reply she rung a small tinkling silver bell. A small faun appeared in the doorway, bowing before the four monarchs.

'Prepare some tea for the High King.' Susan instructed. The faun nodded.

'Yes, my queen.' He dashed out of the room, his hooves making silent noises. Peter glanced at his sister sharply.

'I think you have something to tell me Su, am I right?'

'Of course our dear sister has something to tell you!' Edmund interjected. 'We have already agreed to the phrase that it will kill her to keep her mouth shut. Do you see her dead? Hm? No! It means her babbling and cackling is going to keep pinching us for a long, long, long time.'

He stopped to catch his breath, his cheeks red. Susan glared at him, clearly annoyed. _Of all the obnoxious brothers…._

She glanced back at Peter whose handsome face wore a confused expression mixed with a twinge of annoyance. If somebody wanted to say something to him they should just say it out.

She cleared her throat.

'Peter…we were just talking to Aslan.'

'Aslan?' Peter's eyes grew wide. 'He's here? Why didn't you tell me? Why did he come?'

'He came to inform us of…' Susan hesitated.

'Of?' Peter prompted. Susan gulped. There was no way out. She opened her mouth to reply but was cut off as golden light illuminated around the wide room. It seemed to glide through the thin air, in loops and pirouettes. _Aslan. _

His solemn face was fixed on Peter's who knelt down in respect. Lucy, as always, rushed to him, hugging him fiercely, her hands buried in his mane.

'Peter, my son, your sister wished to tell you of your upcoming marriage.'

There was stunned silence. In dread Susan scanned her elder brother's emotionless face. Oh Peter….. He stared at Aslan and the great lion stared back at him. Both were kings. And both knew how to stare.

Finally Peter spoke, his voice dazed.

'_My marriage_? Aslan please-'

Aslan held up his paw. He sighed softly.

'Peter….there are many things written in fate which neither I nor you can understand now can we change it. It is not in my power to manipulate fate or influence destiny. They run on their own. And fate has decreed that you marry. Infact it has already chosen your lifelong partner….. Isabela Petrova.'

_To be continued…..._

Okaaayyyy. So….Please, please review and give me your comments. The next update may take a little while. But I will continue the story.

A. Lily Potter


	11. Questions and Answers

**Author's Note: **Thank you to all my reviewers and readers who take their precious time out to read my story. Thanks you guys!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia or any of the kings and queens of old. C. S. Lewis does.

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'You are angry at me, Son of Adam?'

Peter did not even turn around, forcing a smile on his blank face. Aslan glanced at him, his face equally wiped of all emotions.

'No…..Why would I be Aslan?'

Aslan did not answer but moved to stand next to Peter, on the great balcony leaning precariously over the calm sea. The tiles were polished and glistening, the grape vines crawling over the wooden railing. The wind tousled Peter's golden hair and Aslan gold mane.

'It is not wise to keep all your emotions in, Peter. They rage inside destroying you within.'

'Then what? I should rage and storm over you? My siblings? My people?' Peter said, only half shouting. He added sarcastically. 'Or _fate_?'

'I see you are displeased with my decision. Tell me Peter.' Here Aslan paused, his pool of eyes staring at Peter. 'Do you have faith in me?'

Peter kept his silence.

'Do you doubt me? Do you not believe that what I do is for everyone's good? Do you not believe that I am watching you, guiding you, helping you when in need? Answer me, Peter.'

Peter glanced down at his riding boots, ashamed by his outspokenness but still defensive. He opened his mouth to retort.

'I did not say that, Aslan. You are our protector and our friend. But you tell me that why is it that _fate_ has taken an interest in me only? Why me? Why not Ed? Or Su? Or Lucy?'

'Would you have let them, Peter? Would you have let them marry against their will if it had been them? Never. You would have taken their place, would you not? In either case you would be the one because you could not bear to let your sisters or brother not have a voice in their future.'

A part of Peter agreed with Aslan's words. Come to think of it, if Aslan had asked any of his siblings he would have been more furious.

Unbidden some words came back to his mind, rising from somewhere in his memory.

'_You will look after the others won't you Peter?'_

He had said yes and he had done exactly that. His brother and sisters made up his entire world and they were a part of him as blue was a part of the sky.

He looked away into the horizon. The rising sun stretched itself lazily over the horizon, its glow turning the sea to pure gold.

Peter turned back to Aslan, his mind made up. However he stopped short. Where Aslan should have been there was nothing. He glanced around rapidly.

'Aslan?' He asked softly. There was no answer. Aslan had vanished. Sighing Peter turned back walking towards the glass door of the balcony. As he heard his light footfalls, in a great distance he heard a mighty roar.

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'My Lady?' Sadeh asked hesitatingly, her expert fingers weaving through Isabela's locks. 'May I ask you something?'

'Go ahead, Sadeh. Say what you want.' Isabela replied her voice low and her face emotionless. Watching its pale, firm lines, visible in the evening twilight and the growing dark Sadeh was reminded of a low lying desert with miles upon miles of sand and little more.

'Why do you not accept the High King's proposal of marriage? It would certainly promote alliance between our two countries.'

'I believe my reasons are my own.' Isabela replied coldly.' None of yours, Sadeh.'

She could see the hurt in Sadeh's eyes. Sadeh who had been a sister to her, who had grown up with her in the Imperial Palace. She looked away.

'I…I am sorry, Sadeh.' She said, exhaling sharply. 'For saying that. I understand what you say is for my own betterment.'

Sadeh smiled knowingly, her cat like eyes intense.

'Will you answer my question, my lady?'

Isabela stared at the large window covering her entire southern wall, out into the dark, void like night.

The more she thought about it, the more she grew uncertain. She had no reason to refuse the High King. With the sole exception of his proud demeanour and sharp words. She had not believed it when King Ashkan had requested her presence to his and Consort Lady Sinclara's chambers and told her of the proposal sent by Narnia's four monarchs. She had felt a cold fury at the High King's nerve.

_Lady Sinclara could not believe her ears and one glance at her husband's aged face she knew that neither could he. _

'_But-Lia! Think and choose carefully! I beg of you!' He spluttered. Isabela did not even blink an eye._

'_I said, I refuse King Peter's more than generous offer.' She said flatly. 'Is it that hard to comprehend, my king?' _

_The young girl had courage and nerve and Sinclara was no fool to see that the girl has truly refused this proposal. Why many woman would gladly give their lives for a chance like this! And Isabela had thrown it away as if it was no big deal! _

_Sinclara's head had swirled with prospects of trade and alliance and support against the invaders and a proposal for her own daughter from the High King's brother. But all her dreams came crashing down with Isabela's words. _

_She felt she could choke the girl. And she would. _

_Isabela stared at her, her eyes meeting her straight on, openly and challengingly. _

'Can I say I do not want to, Sadeh?' she asked. Sadeh shook her head, disapprovingly.

'My Lady, consider this carefully. This will affect not only your future but the future of Liriope as well.'

'I do not like the High King.'

'What do you not like about him?'

'He is….arrogant and more than self centred.' She said lamely.

'Everyone has faults my lady. No one is perfect. You are well aware of that.'

'I-'

'My Lady, please. Give it a try. I am sure you shall prosper from thinking and reasoning with both your heart and mind.'

'But-'

'_Please.'_

'Alright, Sadeh.' She said finally, seeing Sadeh's joyous, victorious face. 'I will give it a try.'

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'Lucy, settle down!' Susan ordered finally, annoyed at Lucy's constant jumping. 'You are ruining your hair.'

'Oh give it a rest, Su.' Edmund punched her lightly on the shoulder. 'You know you did it too.'

Susan glared at him, her eyes giving him the _you're not helping _look. Lucy burst in the conversation, her red hair flying.

'Lia's coming today!' She turned around, her petite hands on her hips. 'Aren't you excited too, Peter?' she demanded.

'Yes Lu.' Peter replied absentmindedly. Edmund could not conceal his smirk.

'Well of course he is! His future wife is coming.'

The atmosphere immediately changed. Peter scowled his brow creasing. Susan could have gladly hit her head against the wall or better yet against Edmund's big head.

Her eyes burning with annoyance she sent him a glare that could have beaten a volcano in a contest.

'As a matter of fact, Edmund.' Peter replied coolly. 'I do not intend to marry her. Not yet anyway. And Aslan agrees with that.'

Edmund's mouth dropped open mirroring Susan's own.

'But Peter-! You-you already sent the proposal!' she stammered, glancing around for help.

'No. I requested King Ashkan to tell Lady Isabela that she is more than welcome to come to Narnia for a visit. You all would be glad to see her.'

'And you think she did not understand your motives? Peter!'

'Will you stop it Susan?' Peter shouted, finally losing his patience. Susan huffed and settled back against the embroidered silk cushions. Lucy rubbed Peter's arm comfortingly, her face visibly distressed.

Just then, heavy footfalls were heard and a Orieus appeared in the doorway, his long brown hair tied back. He bowed.

'My Kings, my queens. Lady Isabela is due to arrive any moment now. One of the talking eagles has reported that they are nearly at the edge of the Western Woods.'

Lucy clapped her hands together, squealing.

'Yay! Come Peter!' She took his hand, ignoring his quiet muttering. 'Let's go!'

'Let's not.' Peter thought darkly. 'Can I not avoid fate?'

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And…ta da! Keep the reviews coming you guys! They really encourage me when I want to stop. Merry Christmas to you all….

A. L. Potter


	12. Remembering

**Author's Note**: A very Happy New Year to you all! May success and happiness rain down on all of you!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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_Your Majesty,_

_I am having a splendid time in Narnia._

_I do not want to_

_The kings and queens_

_I hope you are in good health and are having no problems in governing Liriope what with all the rebellions going on. I am well too and am having a most gratifying stay here in Narnia. The kings and queens are more than kind and have assured that I have all that I need. I heard news that Lady Sinclara was ill with an unknown disease new in these parts. I hope and pray she will be well soon and that her infection will not spread over to you, in our hour of need. My handmaiden, Sadeh, had informed me that you yourself have been plagued with severe headaches and cough. It pains me greatly to be away from you when you most need my support. I know you will not be happy by these words as you were most delighted by my request to arrange a visit to Narnia for…_

Isabela angrily crumbled up the paper and threw it across the room. It buffeted over the wall and fell to the floor. Just another letter she had filled with lies and hidden secrets. Her circular handwriting stared at her from across the room. Why could she not tell everybody the truth? Why?

Part of the letter had been true. The kings and queens had been most kind and understanding. Perhaps they were already aware of Isabela's discomfort. Lucy had been the friendliest, her sweet manner often taking Isabela away from her disheartening thoughts. Edmund, with his funny comments and jokes, had also offered her companionship on more than one occasion. His drama lightened her mood greatly.

Queen Susan had been gracious and forthcoming for which she was known amongst many lands.

And Peter…..he had been aloof and indifferent, seldom talking to her and usually answering his sibling's questions with a distracted nod. That was fine with Isabela. She was used to it by now anyways.

A knock on the door interrupted her plain of thinking. At first she did not answer. But the person was persistent and soon enough a voice accompanied the knocking.

'Lia?'

She jumped, alarmed.

'King Edmund?' she called out suspiciously.

'Of course it's me! Who else? Open this door!' he grumbled. Isabela could not refrain from rolling her eyes. She opened the door, smiling slightly.

'How may I help you, Your Majesty?'

'Su's calling us to dinner. She told me to tell you to please hurry up.'

Isabela nodded and stepped out. Edmund closed the door behind her, motioning for her to walk on.

'May I ask if you are enjoying your stay, my lady?'

'It is most pleasant, King Edmund. Cair Paravel is a beautiful palace. I could not imagine a more attractive place.'

Edmund shook his head, nodding attentively.

'Indeed.' He said finally. 'Cair Paravel is admired by many.'

'Praising your own abode, my king?' Isabela asked mockingly. Edmund stopped, glancing at her wickedly.

'So you're not a walking zombie after all!' he said dramatically, holding his chest.

'I was afraid lest you are a dead ghost risen to haunt us, my beautiful Lia!'

Isabela laughed, she could not help herself. And the sound echoed around the hall. Edmund laughed too as they entered the dining room set with delicate paintings of Narnia in different seasons; summer, spring, autumn and winter. The steaming food made Isabela's stomach hunger for it.

As they began the dinner Isabela felt someone watching her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the snow falling down in the winter Narnia swirled around a blond haired figure on a sled pulled by two roaring polar bears. The woman was blurred and unclear but her sly expression was visible. Isabela could not help the shiver that spread through her.

She turned back only to meet Peter's raised eyebrows and attentive eyes. He caught her eye and turned away something mirroring anger and disgust spreading over his face. Isabela did not speak, her eyes never leaving her plate.

Lucy stared unhappily around the table. No one was speaking. Edmund had wisely decided to stay quiet and Susan respected Peter's wish for silence enough to not make any comments. She noticed Peter turning away from Isabela, detecting slight hints of bewildered hurt in the young girl's eyes.

Irritated and feeling annoyed she thought, must I do everything? She turned to Isabela, her mind racing.

'I trust you are enjoying your visit,' she paused hesitatingly. 'Do you mind if I call you Lia?'

'Not at all, Queen Lucy.' She replied softly. Lucy smiled brightly.

'Just Lucy.'

'Lucy.' Isabela repeated, fingering the delicious chicken nugget on her plate thoughtfully. Realizing that the entire table was awaiting her answer, she said 'Yes, yes I am….Lucy.'

Lucy beamed, pushing her hair back continuing her aimless chatter. Soon Susan joined in, talking openly. Edmund would make his occasional jokes and the mood lightened greatly. Only Peter stayed silent. Presently Lucy noticed that though Isabela had lost her guard she answered only to the point not bothering to explain her simple statements.

Peter got up, his cloak sweeping over the marble floor.

'Where are you going?' Susan asked standing up as well.

'Unlike _some_ people who have no place to rule, I as High King of Narnia have work to do.' His voice was cold and his tone meant to insult. He glared at Isabela who stared back defiantly. Lucy could have killed herself.

Isabela opened her mouth to retort, her eyes burning with fury, Peter stalked away not bothering to listen to Susan's calls.

'Lia, please don't-' Lucy said as she heard the push of a chair.

'My Lady, please excuse me. I do not feel well enough. Thank you for your great hospitality.'

'It was a pleasure, Lady Isabela.' Susan offered. 'Shall I send for some tea?'

'No, thank you.' Isabela said lightly, forcing a smile that she felt would break her face. She walked away, pausing before the snowy picture only for a second.

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Isabela sank into the soft coverlets of her seven poster bed, her cool, simple nightgown flowing loosely around her. She punched her pillow angrily, letting loose her bottled up emotions. Why me? She thought miserably. Silently she wondered where Sadeh was? With her calm, soothing nature? Somehow she felt that the tension between Peter and her was not going to loosen up soon.

His words had stung her terribly. _Liriope...Liriope..Lost..Destroyed..Destructed…_

_Dane, Ginerva dead…..Lorien, James….gone_. _Her home destroyed…_ And Peter thought she was responsible for that? She was glad that it had happened? _Unlike some people who have no place to rule…. _She had given up the throne for the wish of her people. For their betterment. She buried her nails in her palm, so deep that she could see blood forming. With a scream of pain she wrenched her hand free.

'I hate him.' She thought angrily, a lone tear sliding down her face. 'I hate him.'

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Susan rubbed her forehead, stepping through the corridor leading to Peter's room. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing hard. She stopped before the light mahogany doors leading to Peter's room. She knocked softly, hesitating briefly.

'Go away, Ed! Or whoever you are.' Peter's voice floated to her ears.

'Peter!' she called. 'Peter. May I come in?'

'No Su.' He mumbled, his voice thick. Susan sighed. To her all her siblings were young children, Peter, Lucy, Edmund….All of them. Peter with his childish tantrums and stubbornness. Edmund with his love of pranks and jokes. And Lucy with her faith and blind love which she gave to all.

She pushed open the doors, stepping inside and briskly pulling the long, velvet curtains flowing down the window covering the entire window of Peter's room. Peter lay in his magnificent bed with golden and crimson covers. The canopy was attached to the roof with long light gold and scarlet red fabric flowing down to the four corners of his bed.

His hair was tousled badly and he was lying in the clothes he had worn the last night.

'Su!' he grumbled. Susan placed her hands on her hips, a frown on her beautiful face.

'Peter Pevensie-' she began.

'It is High King Peter the Magnificent, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of Lone Island, Knight of the Most Noble Order-'

'Alright, I get it!' Susan interrupted. 'Honestly you are so _annoying_.'

Peter grinned up at her.

'That is my job, My Beautiful Royal Sister.'

'Well I fire you. Get up. Now.' She ordered. 'It's nearly 8. You've slept in.'

'Slept in?' Peter muttered. 'It's bloody 8 in the morning!'

She glared at him.

'I'm giving you ten minutes to report to the dining hall for breakfast, understand?'

'_Report?'_ Peter repeated. 'What are you a commander general?'

'I said do you understand?'

'Oh he understands Su.' Edmund muttered grumpily from the doorway. 'What he and I and probably the entire world don't understand is how _you _were crowned Queen Susan the _Gentle_? Why not Queen Susan the Aggressive, Lady of Getting Up Early, Empress of the Art of Torturing Her Royal Brothers?'

Peter laughed.

'Ha. Ha. Not funny.' Susan replied crossly.

'I never said it was funny.' Edmund retorted. Susan shot him the mother of all glares. She marched out of Peter's room.

'Oh and Peter, I have to talk to you about something. Something about your lack of tact and understanding whose level I find disgusting.'

Peter sighed, his face darkening. It was going to be a long day.'

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Heidi screamed in pain and fell in a heap to the floor. Vladimar glanced at her blankly.

'You deserve this.'

'Please, stop! Stop!' she cried out again, her veins on fire. 'I beg you.'

'No.' A fresh wave of pain and agony swept over her. She screamed wildly, her hair sticking to her face. Tears pooled out of her eyes, waves upon waves of them. Vladimar seemed to enjoy her pain. He seemed to drink in her fear and shrill screams.

'You failed. Why?' Pain.

'I-I-I…I'm sorry.'

'I don't find your pathetic sorry helpful.' More pain.

'I'll do anything.'

Vladimar smiled terrifyingly. Heidi saw blood dripping from his fangs. He pushed the hair out of her face.

'I know you will, Heidi. I know you will. And this time you won't fail. Or…..' Pain erupted within her like a violent volcano.

'You get the idea.'

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I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I liked its beginning because I love it when a story starts with a letter or a special document. Anyways… Once again a very happy new year. Read and review!

A. L. Potter


	13. An Emotionless Night

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. They belong to C. S. Lewis.

**Author's Note:** Finally. I apologize for taking so long to update but now my exams are over. So look in for more updates!

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'Peter Pevensie.' Susan whispered angrily, her tone on the rise. Peter sighed. 'I was appalled to be a witness to your latest conduct. It is difficult for me to believe that you could so easily forget yourself and your position. I was simply distressed to see you lack of sensitivity and half human emotions, to hear such words from you were simply horrendous. Your actions are inexcusable! I demand that you apologize to Isabela at once!'

'Why should I?' Peter asked, folding his arms. He cringed at he heard the distant roar of Aslan. _Aslan. He expected more of me_

'Peter! She is a guest and more importantly she lost her beloved brothers and sister-in-law. The least you can do is to be more sympathetic! You should show her hospitality not hostility.' Susan whispered ferociously. To the watchers it would seem funny to see the Gentle Queen scolding her elder brother, the High King of Narnia, who was much, much taller than her and who now had the expression of a deer caught by car headlights. She continued.

'When I heard your words I felt you had lost all good sense. Did you learn nothing about diplomacy and humane behavior?'

Peter did not reply. If Susan was angry it was best to lie low for a while until her temper had cooled. He stared down at her, looking for any opportunity or excuse to run away.

'_And_ just so you know, the Republic begged Isabela to ascend to the throne but she abdicated in favor of King Ashkan out of pure respect for him. I was simply _horrified._ Simply _amazed_ and _aghast._ I was _horror struck_ and _astonished_ to see that my teachings had no effect on you. What would Aslan have said?'

There it was. The phrase Peter had been dreading for the entire lecture.

'Susan, you do not have to taunt me about this. As a sister, _you_ should have shown some understanding.'

'You're one to talk.' She scoffed. Peter glanced at her, expressionless. 'Oh, fine! Go and kill yourself. And see if I care!'

She moved past him, throwing him a hurt glare on the way out of the lone hall. She stopped beside the doorway, glancing at him intently for a moment. Then she shook her head and her dark head disappeared behind the doorway. Peter shivered as he felt a sudden chill and was suddenly glad that Susan was not here to see him.

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'Peter?' Edmund called, banging his hand against the doorway. He yelped as a bolt of pain. _Dear Aslan_, he thought, _what mess have I got myself into now?_

He pounded the door with his throbbing fist, throwing a tantrum outside Peter's bedroom knowing that Peter would open up. He knew Peter would.

'Go away, Ed!'

'No!' Edmund said stubbornly, folding up his arms. 'Thank you but I don't prefer Susan's lectures over your obstinacy.'

'Do you even know the meaning of the word obstinacy?' Peter's gruff voice floated to him. Edmund sighed dramatically.

'Alas! You, dear, beloved, most precious brother of mine, leave me at the mercy of our vicious and volcano like sister. I, Edmund the Just, King of Narnia, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Table, Count of Western March and Duke of Lantern waste, shall gladly lay down my life for my brother, Peter the Magnificent, High King of Narnia, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Count of Northern March in front of the fury of our sister, Susan the Vicious, Unfortunately Queen of Narnia, Wicked Witch of Cair Paravel-'

The door burst open with a cracking noise and Edmund saw Peter's pale, weary face in the dim, barely visible light of a lamp. He fought with a smirk that threatened to burst on his full lips and felt true pity for his brother.

'What do you want, Ed?' Peter asked grumpily, running a hand through his golden hair. Edmund marched inside Peter's bedroom, glancing around. 'ED!'

Edmund held up his hands as if accepting defeat. He spoke in a low voice.

'I just came to make sure you are alright. After Susan's harsh lecture.'

'I'm alright.' Peter muttered thickly. Edmund sat down, crossing his hands behind his head.

'Well of you are alright, I suppose I might as well go to sleep.'

Peter shot him a furious glare.

'Did Su send you to guard me or to spy on me?'

Edmund grinned, waving a hand carelessly. His shock of dark hair fell into his fair forehead.

'Maybe both.'

'Not maybe, surely.'

'Of course, brother.' Edmund became solemn and serious suddenly. 'Are you truly alright?'

Peter did not answer for a long time and Edmund seriously thought that his brother had went to sleep, standing up.

'I am alright, I suppose but…' he continued bitterly. 'I am ashamed. Aslan thought more of me. _You _thought more of me.'

Edmund was quiet; his face filled with sympathy for Peter whose forlorn look made him quite unhappy. Peter sat down heavily on his huge bed, his head in his hands.

'How could I? Even I could not believe myself!'

'It is good that you feel sorry and regretful for your actions, Peter.' Edmund told him. 'But moping around won't do you any good. You should know that. What is done is done. Don't dwell on it, dwell on how you will repair your mistakes. That is what is important, Peter. Don't forget that.'

'What should I do?'

'Apologize to Isabela. You hurt her terribly. '

Peter's face was masked with acid bitterness and a anger that seemed to be directed not at Isabela but at his fate.

'Yes. Let us all make Isabela feel well. She was hurt terribly.' He said sarcastically. His face was emotionless. Edmund stared at him in disbelief.

'Yes! Peter….You can't escape her. She is going to be your wife. And that is final. Whatever you do you cannot change that. Accept it Peter! For Aslan's sake and for Susan's sanity try to mend the rift between you and Isabela. Know that she is your future and you cannot change that. Even magnificence has to bow down to the hand of destiny sometimes.'

He stood up, glancing at Peter with an impassive face.

'Put yourself in her position and maybe you will understand. And remember Peter that time favors no one. Not you, not me, no one.'

He walked swiftly out of the room, shutting the door behind him with a sorrowful look on his face.

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Isabela looked at the full moon towering over the luscious gardens of Cair Paravel, her eyes swollen, her face paler than death. The moon stood against the dramatic backdrop of the inky black night. No star was visible and the night was darkest night of the winter. A cold wind blew ruthlessly across the lawn.

Isabela shivered, feeling a chill to her bone. Her loose nightgown rippled across her thin figure looking like a billowing ghost. She did not want to go inside. Her eyes ached with the bitter tears. And at that moment she hated Peter, she hated the world and most of all she hated herself.

She coughed hollowly. The voice echoing across the empty, void gardens which loomed into forever. No one was in sight. But the cries of the wild animals floated to her through the thick canopies. She stared into the night, barely seeing her surroundings. Her vision was edged with thick black and she felt cold. So cold. In her misery she barely heard the footsteps which led up to the misty grass she was sitting on. The figure was shadowy and blended easily into its surroundings. It crept up on her, steadily and stealthily.

Something draped on Isabela's almost bare shoulders. A thick cloak of pure velvet, black as night, and soft as a kitten's fur. She glanced up and met Peter's impassive face.

'You should not sit out on a winter night. You can get ill.' He told her monotonously. Isabela tossed her locks back , hurt pride triggering fury within her.

'Not that it would hurt you, would it?' She laughed spitefully. She did not even make sense to herself. 'You would be happy if I were to get ill would you not, _my king_, after all what does a person like me who ahs no place to rule cannot be worried upon by the Magnificent King.'

Peter did not answer but his face was blank and unreadable.

'I am not saying it for my benefit but for you own good.'

Isabela ignored him, trying to block out the cold from her ears. Again Peter gently pulled the hood over her head. She snatched herself away.

'Lady Isabela, please return with all haste to your room. It is a harsh night and not one to be out in.'

'I can take care of myself.' She replied coldly, her tone icy.

'Of course you can, princess.' He said mockingly. And in that moment Isabela wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt her. Her wounded pride must have shown on her face for Peter turned away, his expression blending it into the darkness. For a long time none of them said anything.

'You should go in.' Peter told her finally, his tone uncompromising.

'So should you.' She retorted. Peter laughed without humor.

'I can take care of myself.'

'Of course you can, my king.' She replied sharply. Peter stared at her momentarily not comprehending her words. No one had ever spoken to him in the way she did. He was the High King, not a constable boy. He snapped at her.

'Go inside, Lady Isabela. I think the death of the bride only a few weeks before the wedding might mar the occasion.'

'I won't die of cold' Isabela replied haughtily. Peter laughed darkly.

'I was not talking about the cold.' He said briefly. 'Good night, my lady.'

Isabela stared at his retreating back, numb with fear and apprehension. This was going to be a long night….

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'I would say it did not go well.' Edmund leaned against the painted wall, a smirk playing on his lips. Peter glared angrily at him.

'Go away, Ed. I am not in the mood to forgive.' He growled, his voice threatening.

'I can see that.' Edmund replied calmly. 'Very clearly. After your charming conversation with the beautiful Isabela. Susan would have killed you if she had been here.'

'EDMUND!'

Edmund smiled sadly, his head bowed.

'It is a pity Peter that you and Isabela are so stubborn and proud. You could have shared a great love if only you had been more compromising.'

'I was compromising. She was not.'

Edmund raised a delicate eyebrow.

'Oh really? Both of you weren't. I would not forgive you either. If I were her. You two are perfect for each other. You keep each other in check. In a way you were always meant for each other. She is a competition for you.'

Peter ignored his annoying brother.

'Your advice did not work Edmund. I am firing you. Go away.'

'That's because you did not follow my advice.' Edmund tittered lightly. 'If only you had.'

'Stop with the poetry, Edmund. I tried. I truly tried. But it was her pride which angered me.'

'And I am sure your arrogance would have angered her. It is only fair.'

Peter stared off at his bed, his thoughts far away from the present_. If only you knew Ed. If only….._

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I am sorry for taking so long but I had my exams and I had to study. I completed this just an hour ago, only for you all. Keep the reviews coming guys, they really _encourage_ me to keep going!

A. L Potter.


	14. Of Preparations of Weddings

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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_It was the breathless second before dawn broke over the horizon. The golden rays touched lightly upon every single thing in its view, lighting it up. And within its path stood a magnificent lion, its mane glistening brightly. It was an extraordinary sight. She stood silent and motionless watching the lion carefully. Suddenly it gave a frightening roar, which echoed to the deepest valley and the most hollow cave in the world. Alarmed birds chirped loftily and flew overhead. The lion turned and stared directly at her. It's eyes were like pools of gold, deep and swirling and cloaked in a fine rich honey colour. For some reason the lion reminded her of someone she knew. But who? They were so alike….._

_It looked at her blankly as if surveying her. She started trembling. _

'_Do not be afraid of me, Daughter of Eve. I shall not hurt you. Isabela…. You must do what you know is right. Your desires deceive you. Be careful and vary of everything you want. It is what is best for you….. And most importantly of all, you must believe in Peter.'_

'_Peter?' she questioned. Peter…..Peter….. She knew him. _

'_Yes. You must stand firmly by him, be his shadow always and forever. Correct him when he is wrong and support him when he is right.'_

_The lion turned away without continuing. His face was grave and solemn. She called out._

'_Wait! Who…' she hesitated. 'Who are you?' _

_The lion parted his mouth in what seemed to be a slight smile. _

'_I am…Aslan.' _

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Peter rubbed his temples, his fingers lightly massaging his forehead through his shockingly ash-gold hair. He leaned back up against the high walls, absently staring around him. Fauns, centaurs and other creatures wove around him, casting at him worried frowns. Orieus went by, trotting on his four hooves, studying intently a scroll. He glanced up, narrowing his eyes.

'My lord?' Peter glanced up, trying to focus his blurry vision.

'Yes?' he asked, weaving back his rich cloak. Orieus had a wry smile on his face.

'Queen Susan requests your presence in the study. She says it is most urgent. '

'Very well. I shall join her shortly.'

'She said you must join her instantly not shortly.'

'Alright.' Peter grumbled. 'I am going.'

He walked through the large, complicated halls until he reached the elegantly designed study with its wallpapers stretching over the landscape of Narnia. It was a beautiful view showing the town centre with its exquisitely carved buildings. Susan had put her heart in designing it. Lamps were placed on the walls, lamps from Queen Swanwhite's reign. They glowed gently like stars floating over the scene of Narnia.

Susan was sitting at a large mahogany desk. She glanced up, her curls illuminated by the light.

'Peter…good you are here.' She said presently. 'I asked Lucy and Edmund to fetch Isabela. And try to act polite.'

It was as if by magic that the door opened and his two siblings walked in followed by Isabela. She glanced briefly at Peter before sitting next to Lucy who squealed like a little pixie when she saw the list Susan handed to her, smiling.

'I am glad somebody's enjoying herself.'

Peter had a hard look on his face, strained and impassive as he looked over the list. Susan's neat handwriting wove up to him. _Wedding: __ Themes, ribbons, glitter, balloons, flowers, spray, chairs, invitations, paints, dresses…. __Reception: __Themes, painted lanterns, chairs, dresses….'_

'Why two dresses?' Edmund asked pointedly. Susan rolled her eyes. 'And what with the themes?'

Susan snatched the paper from his, smoothing out the wrinkles.

'It means,' she began with forced emphasis. 'What colour should the wedding and reception be centred around? I thought maybe Peter and Lia would have something to offer.'

The room was quiet and every eye turned on either Peter or Isabela. Lucy cleared her throat trying to loosen the tension.

'Maybe red?'

'It's too bright.' Peter muttered. Isabela nodded, tucking a stray lock behind her ear. Lucy smiled, pleased.

'How about yellow?' Edmund asked. Susan threw a pillow straight at his face.

'Not yellow. Maybe gold and white.' Isabela said smiling. Peter nodded.

'It's fine with me.'

Edmund tried to control his smirk.

'Golden and white. It's perfect for…..' He was silenced by the horribly frightful glare Susan sent his way.

'Alright. It means everything has to revolve around the colours of gold and white. Except maybe the dresses. I want you all to look through the invitations I thought best. The top hundred.'

'Hundred?' Peter asked horrified. 'A hundred?'

'Yes.' She signalled to a faun and he walked in straining under the heavy weight of the invitations bag. Edmund jumped to his feet taking the bag from him.

'Oof!' He scrambled to his feet. 'So many?'

Peter got up.

'Su. I appreciate your efforts to make sure the wedding is to my taste but I prefer the simplest things. Whatever you like.'

'But-' Susan said. She was cut off as he walked away. She sighed, meeting Edmund eyes. 'I think it best if we all go to bed. We're all tired.'

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Susan hurried down the hallway, her skirt flying behind her. In her haste she crashed into Mr. Tumnus who too stumbled to the ground.

'Oh my! Oh my!' he muttered, brushing his fur. 'Are you alright, my queen.'

She took is outstretched hand and got to her feet, gathering the cards she was carrying.

'Yes. Yes. I am alright. I am very sorry.'

Mr. Tumnus bowed his head sorrowfully.

'Oh no. It is I who is sorry, my queen. Shall I accompany you to your destination?'

Susan laughed, waving her slender, white hand. She nodded and began walking to Lucy's chambers followed by Mr. Tumnus who scurried behind her. She knocked on Lucy's high doors, carved especially for her by the beavers of Narnia for their beloved young queen.

Lucy opened the door and Susan did know whether to laugh or frown at her sleepy face and messed up hair. The resembled between her, Edmund and Peter was uncanny especially in the morning.

'Come in, Su.' She mumbled yawning widely. 'Lia's already here.'

Susan entered and saw Isabela's long, dark locks near the window where she was curled up, like a kitten, her face buried in the soft cushions. Susan could not help the pang of envy through her. The young girl was beautiful in a special way which left the world feeling out. Her ringlets illuminated by the rising sun appeared coppery brown and stood out against her white almost ice like face. She appeared to be around sixteen and with a shock Susan realized how little she was. She could not be older than eighteen. Such a young girl…..

She went over and shook her gently.

'Lia. Wake up.' Isabela yawned stretching out her long form.

'Good Morning, Queen Susan…'

'Just Su. And good morning to you as well.'

Isabela jumped to her feet, yanking her fingers through her long hair.

'You called for me?'

'Yes. I wanted you to try on the dress designs and the material.'

'Oh.'

Susan signalled to a youthful female centaur, Naomi. She trotted over, her curls cascading over her bronzed shoulders.

'Yes, madam. The dressmaker is here. Shall I call her in?'

Susan nodded and glanced at the invitation card she was carrying in her hand. Hesitating only slightly, she handed the card to Isabela. She looked over at Lucy and frowning saw she was asleep again.

'I chose this for the wedding.'

'Susan….it is beautiful.' She breathed fingering it lightly. 'You have such a flattering choice.'

Heat flooded Susan's cheeks. She stared at her hands as Isabela tenderly touched the card. It was hand painted by the fauns headed by Mr. Tumnus. The background was a light shade of pale white with the borders made from gold and bronze threads edged with small black designs. In the background there was a painted of Cair Paravel. And on it was written.

_The Royal Monarchs, crowned by the Great Lion, Aslan, of the Empire of Narnia including the Northern and Western Marches, the Lone Islands and Lantern Waste,_

_Request the pleasure of your company at the wedding ceremony of_

_High King Peter of Narnia_

_And_

_Princess Isabela Petrova of Liriope_

_On: 4__th__ February_

_At: 8 p.m._

_At: The Great Hall, Cair Paravel._

The reception card was equally attractive. It was in gold, with exquisite black square blocks filled with inky designs. It said:

_The Kings and Queens of the land of Narnia request the pleasure of your presence at the reception of_

_High King Peter of Narnia and Princess Isabela Petrova of Liriope_

_On: 4__th__ February At: 9 p.m. At: The Royal Gardens_

Susan glanced up as the dressmaker came inside followed by Naomi. She was an old faun, aged and hale but her bright eyes merry. She chuckled as she saw Isabela.

'My, my, what a beautiful girl you are! You and the High King shall make an excellent, dashing couple.'

Isabela looked away, colour flushing her pale cheeks. The dress maker circled Isabela eyeing her thoughtfully. She shifted from one foot to another, uncomfortable. She straightened up.

'I think I know what will flatter your figure the most. I shall make a dress that all shall remember for ages.'

'Okay.' Isabela said shakily, frightened by the faun's look. She exchanged a glance with Susan who had a frown on her stunning face.

'Very well. You may go now.'

The dress maker nodded and walked slowly out followed closely by Naomi. Susan glanced thoughtfully at Isabela.

'Lia. I thought that for the reception you might want a dress made by the natives of Liriope. It was….uh….suggested by my brother that you may want a traditional Liriope dress for the reception. We shall not mind nor shall the Narnians feel offended.'

Isabela was touched by Susan's simple words.

'I…..Thank you, my lady.'

'Susan.'

Susan wanted to say something else that much was clear and she glanced between the sleeping Lucy and Isabela. Clearing her throat she stepped forward.

'Lia, I wanted to apologize for my brother's harsh words. He did not mean to say so. But he himself was much burdened and depressed by the news of his arranged marriage. He told me he had apologized but I did not believe him and so…..'

Isabela's face hardened ever so slightly. She swallowed.

'Susan?' Susan looked at her intently. 'Tell me honestly, why did King Peter agree to marry me? He was not forced. He proposed on his own will. Why?'

'He was told to do so by a close friend, one who means a lot to all of us and whose opinion is regarded as law.'

'Who is he?'

Susan laughed somewhat strangely.

'Who is he? He is somebody extraordinary. I cannot express him with my words. They fall short of his description.'

It sounded eerily close to the lion in her dream. Isabela could not have described him with even a million words.

'Is his name Aslan?' she asked uncertainly. Susan started, glancing at her, her eyes narrowed.

'How? What? Why?' she stuttered. 'How did you know?'

'I….I….. He came to me in my dream.' She was worried that Susan would think her mad but the attractive queen only laughed delightedly.

'Yes….He often does that.'

There was silence, and then Susan said presently.

'I have some work to do. Feel free to do whatever you like, Lia. This is your home now.'

Isabela nodded trying to smile but her mouth ached from forcing herself and she only managed a half hearted wave.

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Lucy stood shading her head from the direct sunlight. She held up her hand and saw her eldest brother making his way to her.

'What are you up to, Lu?' he asked, his blond hair tousled shining with glistening motes.

'Nothing.' She said, smiling mischievously. 'I was thinking Peter-'

'You think?' Peter teased her. Lucy laughed the sound ringing around the foyer. She made to hit him but he edged away as swift as a cat.

'Peter!' she grumbled. Peter laughed, his eyes bright under his shock of light hair.

'Alright! Alright!'

'I was thinking that the Narnian New Year is just next week. It would be fun to celebrate it widely as we did last year and invite some royals from other countries. Lia would enjoy herself too. I am sure.'

Peter's smile disappeared, vanishing as if only a long lost person, a mere ghost.

'Lia, again.' He said bitterly. 'Its all about what _Lia_ thinks right?'

'Peter…..don't say that.' Lucy whispered shocked. 'I only said that because she is my friend too,'

'But I am your _brother._'

'Oh _Peter_.' She reached up and rubbed his arm soothingly. 'I want all of us to be happy. Lia's a part of this family too, now.'

'The wedding is after the celebrations.'

'Oh but I mean what I just said.'

'Yes. I know that very well. After all it is I who is marrying her.'

'You say that as if it were a bad thing.'

'Oh no, it isn't.' he said sarcastically. Lucy stared at him, her eyes pleading.

'Peter, think about what you are saying! Don't you realize that maybe she is feeling the same way? She too is being forced into marriage. And alongside that she lost her entire family. Can you imagine that? Losing me, Su and Ed and then being forced to marry?'

'She agreed on her own free will. I did not tie her up and force her to agree to marry me.'

'No but I feel that Aslan came to her too. I overheard her talking to Susan about it.'

'Really?' Peter asked.

'Yes. Please. Try to make her feel welcome. You are her husband after all.'

Peter stared at her.

'I'll try Lucy. For you, for you only.'

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Ioda clapped her hands with excitement and waved them around like a young, merry child. Her eyes were brighter than ever, two shining stars glistening in the night.

'My lady!' she gushed. 'How considerate the High King is!'

'Queen Susan said only her brother, she did not say specifically.' Sadeh corrected her with her silent demeanour, watching from the corner as she touched lightly Isabela's wardrobe which was only a quarter filled. Ioda did not let it go to her heart. She practically danced around.

'My lady, oh, my lady! How sweet! How charming of him!'

Isabela did not know whether to laugh or groan or to bang her head in the nearest wall. The last thought was very tempting. Ioda paused in mid air and glanced at Isabela.

'But what will you wear?'

'Clothes, of course!' Sadeh exclaimed in her lilting accent. Ioda threw a pillow at her.

'I know that!' she protested.

'Oh? _You _knew? What a surprise!' Sadeh said dryly. Isabela rolled her eyes.

'Stop it.' She ordered. 'I'm getting a headache.'

'But…..' she was bewildered. 'What will you wear?'

'As Sadeh said clothes.'

Ioda huffed.

'Who will make your dress?'

'My lady Isabela, my kinswoman who is a native of a village in the mountains of Liriope, can make your dress. She is blind but her work is beyond the world. She can weave magic with her fingers. Allow me to ask her to make your dress. Please, my lady!'

'Very well, Sadeh. Whatever you wish.'

'And I shall make your hair style, my lady! Only me!' Ioda said, not to be outdone.

'Alright, Ioda. Whatever you wish.' Isabela said mechanically, barely realizing what they were saying_. My wedding, she repeated. I am getting married._

Ioda put her hands on her petite hips.

'My lady, do you know what we are talking about?'

'Of course, Sadeh. Whatever you wish.'

'I'm not Sadeh!' Ioda objected, throwing her hands up. 'I am Ioda!'

'I am sorry, Ioda. But I have a lot on my mind.' Isabela said blankly. 'Please let me rest for a short while. I am tired.'

'But, my lady, it is 10 a.m.!' Ioda told her. Sadeh did not speak. She stared keenly at Isabela, her eyes pitying. 

'_Ioda.' _

'But-I-I-Oh! I shall leave you to rest, my lady.' She bowed her head and pulled the curtains back shutting out the warm sunlight. Talking lowly with Sadeh she exited the room, shutting the door behind her. Isabela fell back on her bed. She felt cold. She felt numb. The room suddenly devoid of the warm sunlight seemed colder than ice. She had never felt this lonely.

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Hmm… I finished this just after the last chapter was posted but I had to wait for a long time to update this chapter.

A. L. Potter


	15. The Virtue of Forgiveness

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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Lucy bounced around the Great Hall of Cair Paravel between the four thrones of old and around the balcony which overlooked the splendid sea, which today was calm and contented, crooning softly and murmuring into the world. The gentle breeze swept over it lightly caressing Lucy's face. She closed her amber-brown eyes, her long eye lashes fluttering against the wind.

She laughed loudly, a sound which echoed freely around the castle, lighting up every corner. Fauns, squirrels and other talking animals which passed her looked affectionately at their beloved young queen. She waved to them, each one. And they felt no shame in waving back.

It was then she noticed her closest friend, Mr. Tumnus. He was scurrying on his furry hooves holding three packages. He wore a familiar red scarf. He had the same expression he had on the day they had first met. Lucy laughed again at the memory and gestured him over. He smiled politely.

'My queen.' Bowing low, he dropped all the packages he was carrying. Lucy knelt down hastily covering her mouth, holding up the fallen packages. 'Oh my, oh my! How clumsy of me!'

As she straightened her glance spread over the Throne Room. Preparations for the dawning wedding were in full swing. Aslan had decreed that the wedding take place next week and the servants worked like mad to make everything ready. There was cleaning, cooking, washing and other chores to be done and the people of Narnia were thrilled to hear of the upcoming wedding ceremony.

Finally the High King was getting married. Handsome, charming and dashing man and a fierce, alluring warrior, a knight of Aslan himself, High King over all kings and queens, High King Peter the Magnificent was getting married! True many young maidens of neighbouring countries were burning with acid hate and poisoning envy and the naiads and dryads were dismayed and distraught but in general the people were excited and delighted.

Susan hurried past them, tossing directions to all around her, her cheeks flushed prettily from exhaustion and tiredness. The pale tone of her skin only enhanced her stunning appearance and Lucy was sure many people were more interested in Susan than the wedding. She scowled sharply as she glanced at the list in her hands.

'Lucy!' she called. Lucy made a funny face to her dear friend before turning to her elder sister who just now was annoyed and irritated beyond belief.

'Yes, Su?'

'The guests will start arriving the day after tomorrow. I want you to make sure that they have pleasurable company if we are busy in the preparations. One week!' she muttered to herself. 'One week only! What was Aslan thinking? We have so much to do….decorations, refreshments, dresses, arrangements, guests…..'

She strode away, walking swiftly down the hall throwing instructions here and there. Lucy stared after her, amused. Mr. Tumnus walked beside her.

'It is sure to be a hectic week. Queen Susan is absolutely worried that things will not be complete.'

Lucy laughed dismissing the sentence.

'Susan tends to be worried always. But in the end, the events supervised by her stand out over the lands!'

Both of them laughed and Mr. Tumnus nodded brightly.

'You are correct, Lucy.'

Lucy glanced around, a puzzled frown on her fair face.

'But where are my brothers? They should be here to help us!'

'The kings are in the Orchid of Swanwhite. Something about practicing and having fun.'

'Ah. I see.' Lucy nodded smiling. 'I'd better go and see what they are up to. Good bye, Mr. Tumnus.'

She waved at him as she wove through the flurry of talking beasts. She saw a slight wave of a handkerchief which then disappeared in the crowd. Lucy skipped merrily down the halls, turning around the exquisitely decorated corridors and passages. Finally she exited the castle making her way over the well mowed grass, breathing in the scent of the freshly cut grass.

The Orchid of Queen Swanwhite had been built during the reign of Queen Swanwhite but during Jadis's reign it had been completely destroyed. Therefore Susan had taken it upon herself to rebuild it and now it was a place where foreign visitors to Narnia loved to stroll around.

The orchid lay in the shadow of slender poplar trees which swayed with the breeze. There was only one way to move through the orchid, otherwise no one could enter it. A covered, lone passage stretched over the orchid supported by poles carved with battles of the old ages including the First Battle of Beruna. It looked out on both sides at the luscious orchid.

Myrtle bushes glowing purple and pale pink covered the perimeter of the garden and beneath them there were lime green bushes trimmed and neatly cut which towered over different exotic flowers from various areas of Narnia. Blood red roses grew thickly under the near the bushes and at the other end of the orchid there were sun yellow, hot pink and orange-red tulips shivering and dancing. In the very middle there was a raised platform surrounded by clear, pale diamond-like water. To get to the raised ground one had to step across the stone steps and once there they would enter into a new garden, one more beautiful than the previous with wooden benches at various places to sit down and relax. But Susan had made sure that the old orchid was not forgotten and remains of a mystical stone fountain and various half broken pillars remained.

Lucy followed the sound of clashing swords to a small clearing in the midst of the garden especially for training. She stood silently and watched her brothers locked in combat, their blades swishing and sliding. She stared with admiration, the deadly dance with an eerie grace and a perfection which could determine life or death for the swordsman. Peter wove around, his long, well muscled body tense and his cat-like eyes blue. Edmund in comparison was lean, thin and reasonably tall but he was a true match for Peter with his ability to attack without warning and his impenetrable defence. Peter was a master at offensive attack; on the battlefield he was merciless and emotionless to the tyrants and the oppressors, he could attack from any angle and his lethal blow never missed. But Edmund was not one to lose easily. His flawless defences had no known weak point and he had the power to attack without a single warning. He too was a great planner than much was proven by his calculated tactics.

Finally they stopped, breathing hard, perspiration running down their frowning foreheads, eyes narrowed, bodies tense and faces blank. She watched fascinated until Edmund broke the spell.

'You don't have to spy on us, Lu. We know how much you admire our excellent combat skills. Mine in particular.'

His arrogance was his fault and in that instant Peter brought his whole weight down upon his brother sending his tumbling to the ground.

'You were saying?' he grinned triumphantly. Edmund scowled.

'Not fair!' he grumbled. 'Lucy distracted me!'

'Oh do stop grumbling about your defeat, Ed!' Lucy called out, practically flying towards her brothers, and giving them both a breathless hug.

'Why are you here, Lu?' Edmund pouted.

'Oh, I was tired of watching only poor Su work for the wedding. I thought I'd come and tell you to help her too.'

'Where is Lia?' Edmund asked as they made their way through gardens.

'She is ill and so Susan told her to rest and not dare to get up. She tried to persuade Susan that she was not that ill but Su would not hear of it.'

'Oh. I guess she is overcome by having to marry Peter and not me.' Peter punched him on the shoulder.

'Shut up, Ed.'

'Alright. Alright! No need to get so touchy. She's yours only. Ow!'

'I said shut up, Ed'

'Fine. You never let me have any fun.' He said sulking. Peter did not answer and Lucy felt misery course through her. _Oh Peter. Why won't you understand? _

As if he had heard her, Peter tried to smile but she could see it was forced.

'Don't worry, Lu. I'm fine. At east I hope I'm fine.'

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She was not ill. She merely felt tired after her long journey and after all she had suffered. At least that was what she thought to comfort herself. Isabela tossed around on the large, cold bed. Her forehead burned while her thin figure shivered, her body ached with pain and fatigue. She felt like dying.

Maybe she was dying. All she could see was darkness and nothing more. Everything was so far away. And she was so tired…. So hurt….. _What is happening to me?_ She wondered, casting her face to the side. _What did I do wrong? Was my mistake being born? _

At the very edge of her consciousness she heard constant knocking. Oh, she hoped the person would go away and leave her alone. She wanted to be alone. But the person outside was persistent and finally a voice accompanied it.

'My lady, I have some medicine for you. Please open the door.'

Was it Edmund? Or somebody else? A faun maybe or a centaur. She did not want to get up. The energy would not come. She was too tired to even push away the curl on her face which tickled her cheeks. She tried to ignore the person at least until they spoke again.

'My lady, please. Queen Susan sent me!'

Annoyed by the relentless person she pushed herself up. Oh… It hurt terribly. Her knees felt like jelly, her body like water which threatened to spill everywhere. She glanced at the mirror to make sure she looked human. Surely, surely the person in the mirror could not be her! The pale, thin girl with her paper white face almost glowing in the dark and purplish black bruises under her huge, deer like eyes could not be her. The red lines which ran across her eyes proved that she had been crying. And the hand she held up in sheer amazement was one of an old, scrawny person not a young charming lady, a princess!

The knocking started again and her head pounded badly. She opened the door barely conscious about her appearance. That was until she saw who it was. High King Peter. High King Peter the Magnificent stood at the door clutching a tray in his hands with a bowl of soup which had a delicious smell that assaulted Isabela's stomach. He looked at her with concern and pity in his sea blue eyes. She turned away. She did not want pity.

'May I ask you the purpose of your visit, my king?' That voice was not hers. Weak and high and blank without any trace of emotion.

'May I come in, my lady?'

'May I refuse your permission?'

There was a faint smile on Peter's mulberry lips throwing his high cheekbones into prominence.

'You do not bow down to others easily, do you, my lady?'

She was not in the mood to answer and instead held the door open. He walked in, blinking in the sudden darkness. He immediately walked to the velvet drapes and pulled them back. It was Isabela's turn to blink. She receded into the shadows.

'I brought you some soup to help you get well.'

'Thank you.' She said stiffly.

'You are welcome.' She laughed bitterly.

'You certainly don't work hard to make sure that I am welcome, do you, my king?'

He looked pained.

'Isabela….I am very, very sorry for what I said. I truly did not mean to hurt you.'

'But you did none the less.'

'I'm sorry.' He repeated again. 'I deserve any punishment which you think would be fit for me.'

She stared at him as if in disbelief.

'You hate me, do you not?' Peter asked.

'I do not hate you.' She said suddenly. 'Hate is a very, very strong word filled with only venom and poison. I do not hate you. But I _abhor _your behaviour towards me. Your coldness, your venomous remarks, your unwelcome conduct, your aloofness, your arrogant, superior-like character and most of all your conceitedness and malicious ways.'

Peter stared at her, momentarily stunned by her boldness. Suddenly a deathly anger gripped him and he struggled against it. He was a king, a High King, a knight, an emperor, a warrior and she dared to insult him like this? He could only take so much.

'A little understanding on your part would be highly appreciated, my lady. Are you even aware of what you are saying? And to whom?'

She did not answer but only looked at him with her child like eyes. He glared fiercely at her. She did not even flinch.

'I am sorry if I insulted you, my king.' She said in a low voice. 'But I said only what I thought.'

He turned away, his face almost glowing in the light.

'I am sorry too.' He said finally. 'For what I said earlier.'

'You need not be.' She said.

'No I have to. I caused you much pain as it already was.'

'Story of my life.' She said bitterly.

'Will you eat now?'

'No.'

'Why not?' he asked annoyed and irritated by now.

'You might have poisoned it.'

For a moment he did not whether to laugh or to strangle her. He did nothing and stared blankly at her.

'Do you ever stop with your _opinionative remarks?_' he said darkly. She nodded, shrugging lightly. 'I hope I live to see the day you do so.'

A small smile lightened her face and she had a fond, tender look on her face.

'My brothers said so too.' She told him. 'They told me that my husband would commit suicide when he married me.'

Peter laughed for real now and the sound echoed warmly around the room. The tension in the room loosened until it clattered to the ground like shards of broken, thawing ice.

'I believe they may be right.'

Isabela pouted lightly and her expression was so like Ed's that Peter could feel his previous anger dissolving. Perhaps things would not be as bad as they would be…

'My king?-'

'You can call me Peter.' He informed her, leaning against a painted wall.

'Peter….she said hesitatingly. 'Can I ask you something?'

'Of course.'

'Why did you agree to marry me? You could easily have refused.'

'I believe Susan told you why.'

'She did but I wanted to hear your reasons.'

'I have the same reasons as she told you. Aslan asked me to marry you and I have faith in him and his decisions.' He said, his expression icy. 'So what are your reasons?'

Isabela looked bewildered herself.

'I do not know.' she said helplessly. 'But it just seemed right and then Aslan came to me as well and told me I was doing right.'

'He did?' Peter asked, smiling slightly. 'He always does that.'

'Peter! Peter!' Lucy's shriek rang around the castle to him. 'Come quickly! Look what I have! Look!'

Peter glanced up, his blond bangs falling in his sullen blue eyes.

'Excuse me, my lady. I must go now.'

'Of course.' She said hollowly. 'You are excused.'

Peter strode out, taking long, graceful steps to his excited sister, finally at ease.

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Asha lifted her head, her abundant hair, chestnut in colour reflected the immense moonlight, some rays shimmering through, falling to her hips. They had grown several inches since the last full moon. A faint smile crossed her rose red lips, frightening and beautiful. She was beautiful, too graceful for a human, too tall for a dwarf, too pale for a Calormen, too thin for an Archenlander ears too rounded for an elf's. She was entirely different.

The pale emerald green dress she was clad in looked ravishing on her, its silken folds falling in drapes around her figure. Her legs were crossed as she sat on the ground, her feet bare. She breathed in the scent of the freshly washed trees of the forest. A young man, with greenish skin walked up to her, bowing low. He murmured something in her ear.

'My lady Asha, you are summoned.'

In a swift movement she was up and striding across the forest floor, zigzagging to avoid the huge trees.

'Dear Aslan, let all be right.' She thought, her eyes narrowed.

The small clearing in the heart of the forest was especially set for important gatherings. Now it was filled with the tree-people, the natives of the forest. They were fighting amongst each other, grumbling, yelling, muttering.

'Silence!' she said, her smooth voice echoing around. 'What ever is the matter?'

'Queen Andria is dead!' Someone yelled. 'Your mother, our queen is dead! Gone!'

Her mother? She had a mother? Asha was dazed. It had been so long since they had last met, so many centuries. They had never maintained contact and soon the aloofness' between them had increased, they never met again. And ever since then she had pretty much been on her own, few friends, only allies and enemies. _Ha!_ She thought scornfully. '_Who needs family when they only back out on you?' _

'But what is wrong?' she cried out. 'Surely you know who the next queen is!'

'You are, of course, my lady Asha! But these tears, these cries are for our dead queen.'

'Mourn those who are dead and you will be dead too. The dead cannot help us anymore.' She told them. They stared at her aghast. No doubt they thought she was mental.

'You want her to be our queen?' a young woman cried out, her eyes venomous. 'Who does not even mourn her mother?'

'She was not my mother! I own no blood debt to that witch!' Asha said ruthlessly, her eyes burning. There was a penetrating silence so long and deep nothing could impregnate it. _Dear Aslan, what have I said wrong? Why are these people so stupid and dumb?_

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Hope you like it! Reviews please!

A. L. Potter


	16. The Poisoned Chalice

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. They belong to C. S. Lewis.

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'My Lady Susan may I say you look absolutely beautiful tonight, as beautiful as the stars that shine above.' Prince Cor said his shy, sweet voice low. Susan smiled kindly at him.

'Why thank you, my lord. It is indeed my pleasure to accept a compliment from a prince as noble and brave as you.' She said lightly, throwing a knowing smile at his wife Aravis who laughed loftily, her tilted eyes dancing as Prince Cor's pale cheeks flushed. 'And you, my lady Aravis, look absolutely ravishing.'

Lucy nodded happily.

'I second that, Princess Aravis.'

'Thank you, Your Majesties.' Here she curtsied. 'But I must say that your beauty impales everyone's.'

Both the queens laughed pleasantly, clearly delighted by the compliment but gracious all the same. _They are so young yet they are the best monarchs in all lands. _Aravis mused as King Edmund came up behind her.

'Oh princess, the sight of your beauty wounds my poor heart!' He said dramatically. 'Alas I am afraid it is now Prince Cor's!' Cor laughed lightly punching the Just King on the shoulder.

'You never change Edmund.'

'I know. I hear it about seven times a day from my sister, Queen Susan.'

All of them laughed at his amusing remark and the foreign rulers waved farewell before making their way into the lavish ballroom decorated enthusiastically by the Narnians. There were rows upon rows of chairs on either side of the marble altar which was bordered by small pillars, the height of the neighboring chairs, each of which had a fragrant garland of exotic flowers on top. The blossoms were in pale gold and white with dark gold and pale white ribbons dangling artistically from them. A live butterfly fluttered on top of each wreath colored in different shades of gold. Narnian banners hung from the roof with the proud lion emblazoned on them. The cool night air coupled with the fresh sea breeze blew in from the open balcony on the eastern side. On the very front the four thrones of old were covered with balloons, flowers and streamers all in the shades of gold and white. Exactly above the place where Peter would marry Isabela, Edmund had hung a bunch of balloons which tossed in the light wind.

The Great Hall was full of monarchs and rulers from far and wide, all of whom had come to see the High King finally wed. Susan hurried from guest to guest greeting them all with her vivacious voice.

There were no words to describe her appearance. She was wearing a flowing gown of pure dark green silk which trailed behind her. It was one sleeved, with the length long and the design elegant. It was simple with a belt of craved emerald on the ribs but its cut and falls gave it a picture of grace and loveliness. Her long hair was in a traditional coiffure with a bunch of luscious curls cascading over one shoulder. Her Narnian coronet, one carved from pure gold especially for her, one given to her by Aslan, rested on her head which she held up proudly but with great graciousness and hospitality. A true queen she was. Her cheeks were white but slightly flushed attractively, her lips full and her wide eyes shadowed by inky long lashes. From where she stood, greeting the governor of Avra, she looked every inch a queen.

Next to her, young Lucy looked equally attractive. She was clad in a light dress of scarlet red which threw into prominence her pale skin. The dress was beautiful designed with the skirt falling in pleats to the floor. It had small sleeves each with a fine cut and the artistic, simple neckline was simply ravishing. Like her sister she did not wear any jewels or finery, opting to wear only her crown gifted to her by Aslan on her coronation and a bracelet made from rubies.

Finally when the Great Hall was completely packed with guests, golden light began to illuminate the room. Hushed and solemn everyone turned their eyes towards the great doors, now swinging open, leading up to the four thrones. A great lion stood in the doorway its mane a reflection of the sun itself, its eyes bright and colored amber-gold. Awe struck all dumb and they simply gazed in wonder at the lion. Aslan was here. He almost glided to the light steps leading to the raised platform where the thrones stood, his head proud, magnificent and bold. Upon reaching the extreme front Aslan turned around, his voice booming as he addressed the kneeling people.

'Welcome, Sons of Adam, Daughters of Eve to a ceremony which shall mark the beginning of Narnia's finest age.'

Loud applause rang around the Great Hall and the bright lights dimmed lightly. The High King stood up, shadowed by his brother, Edmund who was grinning from ear to ear. They looked handsome and more than dashing. Edmund, his dark head held up, was clad in a tunic of different shades of green with black leggings and an emerald green, velvety cape which threw his fine features into prominence. Both were Narnia's kings but it was Peter to whom all eyes flew. His blond-golden blond hair, tousled and silky, shone like Aslan's mane itself, soft and smooth, the bangs falling into his bright, vivid eyes. They were the great Eastern Sea itself, glittering pure blue with fine traces of emerald green at the very edges, shadowed by impossibly long lashes. He was clad in a pure white cotton tunic with golden leggings, high, polished boots and a cloak which trailed behind him. It was of a rich color and fabric, pure velvet and scarlet red in color. He could be described in only one word: magnificent. Proud, bold and noble he stood out amongst the sea of heads.

The brothers made their way to Aslan who smiled knowingly at both. He nodded lightly to Peter, his eyes bright, brighter than the sun. The doors opened slowly and reluctantly everyone tore their eyes from the two brothers and Aslan towards the carved doors. For a fleeting moment Peter thought Isabela had backed off, had refused, had changed her mind and he felt an odd quiver in his heart. But then he saw her and it was all he could do to keep his jaw from falling open. She looked like an angel who had descended from the heavens. He could not deny that.

She was draped in a simple, white gown which had no lace and no jewels, it was simply the graceful draping and elegant curves of the dress which made it beautiful. Golden threads had been used on the skirt and the bodice to make beautiful patterns. It shone out like moonstones or motes dancing in the silver moonlight. Around her neck she wore a necklace which had belonged to a previous Narnian Queen. Her waterfall of hair was pulled back in a fashionable coiffure with diamond clips. She looked like a true queen and there was a sparkling aura around her which rendered all speechless. It was King Ashkan who was giving her away. She had turned away when Susan had asked her as to who she wanted to give her away. It was clear that she wished for her brothers but nothing could be done about it and she had asked King Ashkan who do so who had been overjoyed. She later told Peter that when she had been young she had envisioned her brothers fighting over as to who would give her away. His heart had ached when he heard her clear, strained voice.

A low smile curved her lips as she gently took Peter's hand her eyes meeting his. It was the understanding which though invisible passed between them. He knelt his fair head brushing her soft hand with his lips. Peter did not need to look up to see Aslan's satisfied smile or Edmund's barely-concealed smirk. A low murmur ran through the crowd. Aslan cleared his throat, his voice booming and solemn.

'Do you Peter the Magnificent, son of Ben and Helen Pevensie, High King of Narnia and all states under Narnian governance and law, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of Lone Islands, Count of Northern March and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion accept Isabela Petrova, daughter of King Leonard and Queen Elizabeth of Liriope as your lawfully wedded wife?'

'I do.' Peter said, hesitating only a fraction of a second. He glanced up, meeting Edmund's encouraging eyes.

'Do you swear to protect her, be faithful to her, help her, support her, care for her and treat her as she deserves? Do you promise to treat her with kindness, love and devotion?'

'I do.'

Aslan turned to Isabela who flinched back slightly.

'Do you Isabela Petrova, daughter of King Leonard and Queen Elizabeth of Liriope take Peter the Magnificent, son of Ben and Helen Pevensie, High King of Narnia and all states under Narnian governance and law, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of Lone Islands, Count of Northern March and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion as your lawfully wedded husband?'

'I do.'

'Do you swear to protect him, be faithful to him, help him, support him, care for him and treat him as he deserves? Do you promise to treat him with kindness, love and devotion?'

'I do.' Peter thought he saw a mischievous sparkle in her eye.

'Peter, hold out your right hand. Isabela, hold out your right hand. Entwine them together' He instructed. Finally he breathed upon their joined hands and a pure white ribbon appeared on their wrists joining them together.

'Is there anyone who believes that this wedding should not take place?' Aslan questioned. No one even dared to breathe. _I do but my vote does not count. _Peter thought bitterly.

'Then I declare you man and wife. Live a long life which is filled with only happiness, joy, love and all that is good. May the stars rain upon you. May your life remain drenched in blessings. May you be a source of comfort to one another. I wish you a prosperous and happy life where you shall find light in every shadow!'

Thunderous applause broke out amongst the huge gathering almost deafening Peter. Simultaneously the balloons above him and Isabela burst and glitter and flowers flowed around them, swirling around their figures.

They turned around to face the audience both pale and blank faced with forced smiles on their faces, their wrists still entwined. Finally two blue birds flew down circling the couple before taking the ribbon in their beaks and flying away. Isabela practically wrenched her hand away from Peter's who stared at her for several seconds before looking away. There could be no more bitterness and coldness than there was between them on a day which was supposed to be the happiest of their lives.

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'My Queen Isabela?' A small, timid voice asked from somewhere behind her. She turned around, small loose curls falling around her shoulders. She glanced at the young man before her with his bright, intelligent eyes and calm, gentle smile and tousled blond hair. She had seen him before. Then she saw the heavily muscled man and exotic young woman dancing behind him, she knew who he was. Prince Cor of Archenland.

'Prince Cor, what a pleasure to meet you again. I met you last-'

'On the happy occasion of a Narnian ball held last month. It is very kind of you to remember.'

Isabela smiled slightly, her lips curving only slightly but Cor noticed and beamed happily.

'You are very beautiful, do you know that my lady?' he asked, his voice gentle and far away. 'High King Peter thinks so too. You can see it in his eyes.'

Color flushed her cheeks as if somebody had laid two rose petals against her cheeks. She turned away and the smile vanished. Cor saw it and laid a small hand on her shoulder, his expression worried.

'I have not upset you have I, my lady?' he asked, his eyes anxious and alert. She glanced back at him and tried to put on a smile.

'No…no…' she faltered. Cor grinned boyishly.

'I certainly hope not because I was hoping you would accompany me for the next dance?' he offered, holding out his hand. Isabela glanced at it, her expression reluctant. She nodded finally.

He led her to the marble floor which reflected the lights from every direction.

'My Lady may I ask how you like Narnia?' He was polite as he felt her discomfort and was unwilling to make her feel more awkward.

'It is more than beautiful. Simply magical.' She breathed. Cor laughed.

'Indeed all feel that way. Narnia has a charm that no place can match. It is more than beautiful. Divine.' He paused thoughtfully. 'You know my loyal companion once told me that one hour in the sweet air of Narnia is better than a thousand years in Calorman.'

'I have been to Calorman. I believe Prince Rabadash also resides there?'

'Indeed.' Cor concluded, a distasteful expression on his innocent face. 'I have met him.'

'And you did not like him.'

'I would say not. He is different from me. Our personalities clash.'

'I can very well imagine that.' Isabela laughed. She glanced over his shoulder and saw Peter dancing with another young, charming lady. Her jaw tightened and she felt pain course through her. _I am not jealous_. She thought mortified. _I am not! I do not love him. Nor do I care about him. It is as simple as that._

'_Then why do you feel so hurt?' _Her conscience asked her slyly. _You are most obviously jealous.'_

'_I am NOT!' _she did not realize that she had said the words aloud and Cor stared at her puzzled and bewildered.

'Beg pardon? I did not catch that.'

'It is nothing.' Thank Aslan the song was finishing. She did not think she could live through dancing again. Cor lightly brushed her hand with his full lips.

'It was a pleasure meeting a great lady such as you, my Lady.'

'The pleasure was all mine.' She said automatically, surprising even herself. Cor glanced quizzically at her but within his exposed eyes she saw traces of pity. Her fists clenched and she turned away, closing her eyes briefly as she walked away.

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Asha sat down on the throne made of oak leaves, broad and beautifully colored with vibrant tones of green, curling her feet like a cat does its tail. Next to her stood an ancient dryad and part elf, her mother Sasha's advisor, Furok. Old, wise and future seeing, Furok was clad in flowing robes of silver and midnight blue which shimmered around his gnarled figure. His face was covered on its southern side by a bushy red beard which matched his auburn hair which he wore long. He leaned down and whispered in her ear.

'Are you ready, my lady?'

She nodded coldly, her head held high. She was a princess after all. He shook his head and cleared his throat glancing at the packed forest clearing, deep within the Western Woods. Elves mainly but dryads and wood nymphs too. Queen Sasha had been the empress of the whole forest after all and she _had _married the half dryad prince, Asha's father thus all of the forest creatures considered her their lawful queen. All except Asha and two of her loyal friends.

Their views clashed horribly and while Sasha did not favor humans in the forest she so cherished, Asha wanted to promote peace between the two races. Finally in a fine fit of rage Sasha had exiled both Asha and her companions. She hadn't seen her mother since. What had it been?

Perhaps a hundred years?

She did not know. Nor did she care.

Furok glided forwards with two young Elven girls dancing behind him holding between them the coronet which had graced Sasha's dark head, which now, would grace Asha's fair head. He cleared his throat again and spoke in his wise, mesmerizing voice.

'Fair Friends, Dear Companions, And the Cherished Citizens of the Western Wood, I welcome you here today not to mourn the death of our beloved queen ,Sasha the beautiful and gracious queen of the Woods, but to celebrate the coming of another. Her daughter, Asha, daughter of Queen Sasha and Prince Dlos shall now lawfully assume her rightful place on the throne. Is there anyone who thinks it fit to object? Please,' he gestured gracefully. No one spoke but then the rascally, low voice which Asha had been waiting in despair for all day spoke up. _Dear Aslan….._

The blue skinned elf-man came forward brandishing a sharp and heavily armed spear from under his blackish fur.

'Asha.' He sneered.

'It is Princess Asha to you.' She retorted trying to maintain a quiet tone. 'And so queen.'

He threw back his head and laughed, yelping like a mad wolf.

'You think I will let you be queen after all you have done?'

'What have I done?' she asked softly, glancing at Furok whose face was calm and composed as ever.

'You have went against the wishes of Queen Sasha, you have _screamed_ at her, disagreed with her and never accepted her as a queen and not even as your mother. Why should we accept you as our queen when you declined our beloved queen's generous favors and broke the laws made by her? You have associated with filthy humans! With those barbarians!'

'I see, Gal that you did not properly study the laws enforced by your beloved queen Sasha? Did you refer to her upheld law stating that all, _all _shall have freedom of all means, speech, views for example.' Asha replied hotly defending herself. 'I have broken no laws by associating with humans. Not all humans are as you believe. And I know Gal for a fact that you have married a half human elf.'

There was a collective gasp around the crowd and Gal spluttered into silence.  
'She was a witch!' he roared. 'She bewitched me to marry her!'

'Liar!' another voice shouted. And the woman in question came forwards, Gal's wife was almost in tears. 'You swore you loved me! I do not have any magic powers! I swear by Aslan that I don't! Lady Asha, please believe me! I have done nothing wrong. Your mother never held anything against me!'

'Nor shall I.' Asha replied. 'You are free, young one. No one shall hold anything against you.'

Gal's expression might have been funny if the situation had not been so serious. He was red in the face, huffing and puffing and looked as if a cat had got his tongue.

'So!' Asha said triumphantly. 'You see. You have nothing that you can hold against me!'

Witch a howl of fury, Gal scampered off, yelping and swearing revenge.

'I hate you, Asha! I hate you and I shall kill you with my bare hands one day!'

Here Furok stepped forwards.

'You shall not lay one hand on our queen. Not now, not ever.'

'Asha, child, raise your hands.' He told her. 'And take the pledge. For now you are our queen.'

It was all a dream, a dazed and astounding dream. The Elven girls skimmed forwards and put the coronet on her head, crying and squealing with joy.

'Long live, Queen Asha!' they cried delightedly. Roars of the crowd echoed along with their loud noises. Furok nodded, inclining his head.

'Indeed. Long live Queen Asha.'

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Ah! Finally! I am sorry it took so long to update but I was really, really busy. Anyways. I have the next chapter written out and _almost _ready to upload. Read and review please. Do tell me what you think. It really encourages me!

A. L. Potter


	17. The Beginning of the End

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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Peter sat down ruffling his fair hair. He clasped his long cloak draping it artistically over the side of the chair, leaning back and taking a long breath.

'Tired?' A sweet, familiar voice said. 'So soon?'

'Lucy!' Peter called exasperated. 'Why is it that you are always everywhere?'

Lucy winked; brushing back her long rich red hair tied back now with an apricot ribbon. She laughed delightedly at the compliment.

'Why thank you, my dear brother! I am more than pleased by your charming compliment.'

'It was my pleasure, my queen.' Peter replied dramatically, hand over heart. Lucy clapped her hands.

'I am glad you are in good spirits, dear brother of mine. It pleases me greatly.'

Peter tried to put on a smile for her sake but Lucy was too sharp to not notice that it did not reach his sea blue eyes. She touched his shoulder lightly.

'Mood swings again?' she asked softly. 'Did something happen between you and Lia?'

'No nothing happened between me and _Lia._' He replied resentfully, his tone sharper than knife. 'Why should something happen?'

'Just because you are unhappy and angry does not mean that you should take out your anger on us, Peter!' Lucy replied quietly, her tones low, her eyes flashing. 'What's wrong?'

'I'm sorry, Lu. I am just tired.'

'And you should be. After all the commotion of the previous week.' Lucy said, rubbing his arm comfortingly. 'Tell me, did you dance yet?'

Peter groaned. 'Tell me who I have not danced with yet. I could not refuse any lady. It would be inappropriate.'

'I can tell you one person you haven't danced with yet.' Lucy told him. She motioned towards the dark corner of the ball room. 'A girl you should have danced with at the very beginning.'

Peter's face hardened to marble.

'I suppose you are referring to _Lia?' _he asked stonily. Lucy got up, taking his hands in her soft ones.

'_Please Peter._' She practically begged. 'Look what others might think. The High King did not dance with his own wife on their wedding day.'

He did not answer and finally released a long sigh dropping his head in his hands. He got up, brushing his tunic and stalked away but Lucy smiled slightly when she saw his direction was towards Lia.

'You have done good, dear one.' A soft voice said behind her. Lucy turned around, her face lighting up as if by magic.

'_Aslan!' _she cried throwing her arms around him. Aslan's warm laughter rang around the hall.

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Isabela turned around from the large window when she heard a small noise. It was of light footsteps lithe and graceful, like a forest cat's. Her heart clenched as she saw a long, well built form standing silhouetted in the shadows. Finally the figure stepped into the star light which reflected off its blond almost golden hair. Peter. She turned back.

'I wonder why you are here?' she said sarcastically. Peter's face was hard. She cringed lightly.

'Will you dance with me?' he asked in the same cold, proud voice. She swallowed. He was obviously angry but then she nodded. After all she could not refuse her _husband_ for this dance. She took his hand still unsure.

He placed his large hand on her waist, spinning her around absentmindedly, staring at Isabela who shifted uncomfortably under his strong gaze.

'How are you, Isabela?' His question surprised and startled her and she put on what she hoped was a bewildered expression.

'I am…..fine?' she answered, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. 'And you?'

A faint smile flashed on his full, sculpted lips and he cocked his head to one side.

'You really don't know what I am talking about, do you?' he asked almost mockingly.

Isabela flushed and replied hotly. 'It is not my fault if you are talking nonsense!'

There. She had done it now and she bit her tongue in expectation of his anger. But he did not answer. A cool mask ran over his fine face and it frightened her more than his anger.

'It was a simple comment, my lady Isabela.'

'And what I said was also a _simple comment._'

Peter did not reply and only shook his head at the remark, his jaw tight.

'I had hoped that we could put aside our differences and try to get along. But if that is what you want….' He stopped. Isabela swallowed.

'But that is not what you truly want do you?' she guessed. Peter sighed.

'Do I have to be reminded constantly that this wedding was against my wishes? That is past and now we are married. There is nothing we can do about it. For my family, for Aslan and for my own sanity I want us to live in peace and harmony even if we do not love each other. Is that so difficult?' he asked her. Silence made her throat dry and she could only stare at him. Peter continued. 'I did not want this. And I know that you too did not want this. But now we must live together. Bitterness and harsh words will not help us change this. Do you understand?'

'I am not a child!' she managed to choke out. 'Do not treat me like one!'

'You are certainly behaving like one.' He said coolly.

For that instant she hated him. Hated him for his cool demeanour, for his ability to hide his displeasure and for knowing her so well. She envied him for being able to keep his emotions locked up and to be so cold and proud and emotionless. She hated herself too. For being too expressive and too emotional.

Traitorous tears itched at her eyelids and she angrily pushed them back. She lowered her eyes on the floor so that Peter would not see them.

'You're crying?' he sounded amazed, unbelieving.

'No!' she replied, running an arm over her eyes. 'The bright light hurt them.'

'You are not good at lying, my lady.' He leaned down and whispered in her ear.

'And you are not good at consoling.' She retorted, glaring up at him, her eyebrows rushing together, her expression fierce as a cat's. He noticed and a wan smile crossed his features.

'I see you are well now. I can see that by your expression.'

'Oh can you, my king? I am glad that you are able to read me so clearly.' She said spitefully. He smiled again.

'Now I am sure you are alright.'

'Of course I am alright, you-!' she stopped, realizing that she was talking to the High King. One who currently had a dark expression on his face. He bowed stiffly.

'The dance has ended, my lady. I bid you a good night.' He said, walking away by taking long strides.

Edmund sneaked up behind her, his expression curious. 'Oh dear' he said, sounding like an old grandmother. 'I suppose my dear little Peter is suffering from depression again. I'd better check on him if that is alright with you, little girl.' He offered her a bright smile.

'Will you accept my offer for the next dance?' he winked, flourishing his hands in waves. Isabela's smile died before it reached her lips and she nodded lightly.

_Alright…._

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Aslan cleared his throat loudly, his throat roaring lightly. Still it sounded like thunder and the guests silenced.

_More like rumbled._ Isabela thought amusedly. Aslan signalled to her come forward and with a lump in her throat she did, trying hard to keep her face blank and careless. She failed miserably.

Peter and his siblings all stood beside their respective thrones but both Isabela and Aslan stood a few steps ahead, both glittering in the lights of the ball room. Every single eye was on them.

'Sons and Daughters of Adam you are not here only for the wedding of the High King of Narnia but you are here to witness the crowning of Narnia's only High Queen who shall have full authority and right over all the present and future kings and queens of Narnia.'

It went quiet, so quiet that you could here the drop of a water echo around the entire castle. Isabela glanced wildly at Aslan, her face bewildered but then she heard the deafening roar of a lion in her ear and she closed her mouth. _Aslan…. What are you doing? _

Then the Narnians surged forwards clapping and waving their hats and scarves wildly, crying delightedly. Aslan smiled slowly and then turned his full gaze on Isabela who suddenly had to look down, his gaze was severe but serene.

'Kneel, daughter of Eve.'

Isabela did so, letting her gown flow loosely around her making it extremely uncomfortable but she stayed still.

'Tell me Isabela, will you accept your title as the High Queen.'

'That….that depends on what you say, Aslan.' She murmured, her head bowed. Aslan looked at her with his huge golden eyes, beautiful in all their glory.

'And if I say you are not meant to be the High Queen?' he questioned.

'Then I shall refuse.'

Aslan chuckled, his face breaking into bright lines of understanding.

'I sense you are telling the truth child. It is only fair to make you the High Queen, you being the wife of High King Peter and a person who possesses all the qualities of a leader.'

Isabela's coiffure hair draped itself over her shoulder as Aslan spoke again.

'Do you promise to uphold the rules of justice, peace, honesty and righteousness?'

'Yes.' Isabela said solemnly.

'Do you swear to do what is right for your people and work for their betterment and integrity?'

'Yes.'

'Do you promise to be a fair, kind ruler to these people? Do you promise to help them when in need? Do you swear to let them correct you if you are wrong and for you to correct them if they are wrong?'

'Yes.'

'Do you pledge to keep all the promises you have made?'

'Yes.' Isabela said quietly, her heart thudding until it felt like it would burst. She was vaguely aware of Aslan motioning to the Beavers who stood at a corner but she kept her head down. Then she felt light hands touch ever so slightly the crown of her head and she raised her head.

Gasps sounded all around her and she glanced anxiously, a cold fist closing over her heart, at Aslan who nodded comfortingly. She heard someone whisper.

'Queen Helen's coronet!'

'Yes, Son of Adam.' Aslan all but roared. 'It is the coronet of Queen Helen, the first monarch in the line from whom all the future kings and queens of both Narnia and Archenland descended. It is only right that this crown goes to the High Queen of Narnia.'

Murmurs of agreement broke out amongst the gathered people and then Lucy stepped forwards, raising her right hand.

'Welcome, High Queen Isabela.' She spoke lowly before turning to Aslan. 'I pledge alliance to her.'

Aslan smiled at her and said something which made Lucy's face break into a thousand smiles. Edmund came forward next, over dramatic and humorous as always.

'My High Queen Isabela, it would indeed be my pleasure, my delight, my joy, my duty to pledge myself to your righteous services for the betterment of Narnia. I am overjoyed to see a beautiful, gracious and kind woman like you become the High Queen because quite frankly I've just had about enough of the over bearing, arrogant, ugly, bossy, obstinate High King and I welcome you in the hope that you will be the complete opposite of him.'

'Ed.' Peter growled slowly. Edmund looked up with feigned surprise.

'Oh dear me! Have I said wrong? Because if I have, I ask for your whole hearted forgiveness my High Queen and of course my High King, please.' He bowed amusingly low and opened his mouth to say more but Susan cut him off.

'Oh Ed! Will you let me come forward now?' she asked frustrated. Edmund bowed again.

'Of course dear sister. Goodbye, my queen.' He said, pretending to wipe off a tear and everyone including Aslan laughed at his amusing antics. Susan mock-pushed him, pretending to scold him as he strutted away. She then turned to Isabela who once again was astounded by the sight of her beauty.

'Isabela.' She embraced her lightly. 'High Queen of Narnia! Of course I accept you as such and promise to accept your authority and power over me.'

Isabela tried to smile but it would not come and then the moment she had been dreading came as she felt Peter's long shadow wash over her. She felt his impassive eyes and almost flinched back at their coldness.

'Peter.' Aslan seemed to chide him lightly but nobody would have noticed this.

'I pledge my services and allegiance to you, High Queen Isabela.' He said formally. 'And I hope that you shall keep true to your promises and govern Narnia well and love it as we do.'

'I already do, High King Peter.'

For an instance a shadow of a warm smile crossed his face but then it disappeared and Isabela blinked feeling she must have imagined it. Aslan turned around facing the Narnians.

'People of Narnia, I hereby declare Isabela, wife of High King Peter of Narnia, daughter of King Leonard and Queen Elizabeth of Liriope, from the Royal House of Petrova and Pierce as your lawful High Queen declared by Aslan, emperor of Narnia, high king over all high kings and son of the emperor over the sea. I give her full rights over you.' He paused. 'And remember she is not a Consort Queen only she is a queen in her own right, the High Queen over all kings and queens of Narnia.'

'Rise Isabela Amylyn, High Queen of Narnia.'

A thunderous applause shook the walls of Cair Paravel and the roar of the Narnians drowned all else as they cried.

'Long Live Queen Isabela!'

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Queen Susan, famed not only for her lunar beauty and graciousness but also for her charming events, had outdone herself this time. This was proven by the awe struck faces of the guests as they caught sight of the elaborately decorated gardens, whispering to each other. No doubt some would try to copy it in near future but then again it was nearly impossible to copy Susan's bright mind accompanied by Lucy's intelligence.

Hand painted lanterns hung in rows from the high and occasionally low branches of the trees shading the gardens. Each was painted with a scene from the history of Narnia…. Aslan, the Wood between the Worlds, the creation of Narnia, the talking beasts, Queen Swanwhite and her beautiful reflection in the Great River, King Frank crowned, Queen Helen on a hunt…..…. Jadis on her polar bear carriage, Lucy first entering Narnia, Lucy meeting Mr. Tumnus around the large lamp post, Edmund entering Narnia, Peter and Susan entering Narnia, The Pevensies meeting the beavers….. and all their adventures until their coronation. All of them in proper order.

The lights shone over the gardens as stars over the world. Crepe paper in exquisite curls and curves dangled alongside them. Stones carved with animal faces lead around to the very centre which one reached after crossing through the small mote and the nearby fountains. The pavilion was huge and lined with silvery chairs which the guests slowly occupied. On one side the tables were placed lined with delicious eatables which made one's mouth water simply by looking at them.

The mermaids had swum up to the mote through the large river connecting the sea and the it and they snag beautifully in their magical, light voices which struck one's heart. They were followed by Mr. Tumnus who played a magnificent tune on his instrument on which the other fauns danced gracefully. It was all as if woven by pure magic. The naiads for once at peace with the dryads had also joined the wedding and they too sung old songs about Narnia's rich glories their luscious hair weaving. Ghost like creatures practically _melted _from the trees and joined the guests chattering about and clapping their hands excitedly. Wood nymphs. The dwarves and fauns joined hands along with other woodland creatures and danced around the pavilion delighting the audience with their coordination and skill. Finally the centaurs played a tune of the time when Aslan had made Narnia while the talking animals acted out their parts. Isabela stared at the alluring show. It was more than beautiful, no words could describe it.

Beside her, Peter murmured to his pleased elder sister who beamed at the praise and lovingly touched his shoulder.

'Su, you have bested yourself this time.'

'Only for you, Peter.' She told him. 'I would do it over a million times.'

Peter had smiled a stunning smile, running a hand through his windswept hair. Mr. Tumnus came up to them with Lucy on his arm, waving his handkerchief vacantly.

He stopped beside Isabela and Peter.

'My heartiest congratulations, to you, to both of you1' he cried happily. 'The Narnians have waited long for this day. High King Peter finally married! I wish you a happy, loving life filled with only and only joy!'

Peter nodded politely.

'Thank you, Mr. Tumnus. For your well-wishing.'

'Yes.' Isabela said, glancing at the aged faun. 'Thank you very much.'

'My pleasure, milady.'

Lucy clasped Isabela's hands in her own, bouncing with excitement and leaning up to kiss her cheeks.

'Now we're truly sisters!' she said, her cheeks flushed with happiness. Isabela had tried to smile and she did but it was blank and strained.

After them came a stream of people, monarchs, rulers, princes and princesses, king and queens. King Lune was amongst the first, beaming and bouncing and laughing heartily.

'Finally, and so, Peter, you have married at last and married well if I say!' he winked good naturedly. 'Cor was true to his description about your beauty, Lady Isabela.'

Peter laughed, shaking King Lune's fat hand and then his tall, heavily muscled son, Prince Corin's.

'Lady Isabela if the High King had not married you, I daresay I would be amongst the first of your suitors! King Peter would you mind if I complimented your ravishing wife?'

'Not at all, Corin.' Peter said, shaking his head. 'I would be much pleased.'

'Well I really must go on now. There is this pretty dryad who is very much interested in listening to my _amusing _tales.' Prince Corin said pompously.

'Thank you, King Lune.' Peter said, inclining his head. 'And thank you Prince Corin.'

Prince Corin winked friendlily and bounced off like an over excited puppy. King Lune followed him and then came up Prince Rabadash and his royal father. Isabela would have very much liked to punch him.

Again.

It sickened her the way they looked at her and she felt sure that Peter noticed too for his face tightened. Susan was the only one composed enough to thank them with Peter occasionally saying a few charming words only for Susan's sake.

'Lady Isabela, you are as beautiful as the exotic fish of the Great River.'

Isabela raised an eyebrow glancing at Peter who bit his lip to keep from laughing mouthing _was that supposed to be funny?_

'Thank you, Your Highness.'

'You are most welcome.'

They nodded and flounced off, tossing their egoistic heads. Governors from the Lone Islands came forward with their families to pay them their goodwill. Almost all were old and white haired with their wives on their arms.

A small boy came forwards clad in a brilliant red tunic, silk black leggings and boots with a jewelled dagger at his side. He was small with pale blond hair but his eyes were wise and somehow ancient. Isabela blinked at him.

'Adam?' she asked astounded. 'You've grown!'

Adam smiled shyly, his pale, thin cheeks blushing red. He ducked his fair head.

'I cam to wish you both a content, prosperous life. From my mother and I. And-' he hesitated. 'I came to say farewell too.'

'You're going back?' Isabela asked.

Adam shook his head.

'I am going to the training Academy for Narnian knights. High King Peter arranged for that. Thank you, my lord.'

Adam bowed low. Peter nodded gravely.

'It is my duty to make sure all get what they deserve and I could not let such promising talent go to waste, Adam. I hope you make me proud.'

'I will!' He promised cheerfully. 'I will!'

'I know you will.' Isabela told him. 'I have faith in you. And I am sure your mother does too.'

'You know, my lady?' Adam asked timidly. 'I always believed you were a fairy sent down from the heavens only for us.'

'Why thank you, Adam.' Isabela teased lightly and Adam flushed again. 'Take care'

'And may Aslan be with you.' Peter told him quietly, his sea blue eyes intent.

'And you.' Adam bowed clumsily and waved before flying off with a frowning Orieus.

'You arranged for that?' Isabela murmured silently to Peter. He glanced at her for the barest second and then nodded his face blank.

'I wanted too. He deserves that. And I am sure he will grow into an intelligent and fearless knight. I am sure.'

'That was very kind of you.' She noted.

Peter did not reply but turned around to greet another guest, his tone warm. She sighed.

_Some things don't change, do they?_

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Vladimar lifted his pale, wispy head from amongst the myrtle bushes. His red, blood red eyes looked alertly around the mountainous hill, resting on the small village lying nearby.

Small oil lamps hung outside the nearly thirty-five houses, all resting in a complete circle. They were lying on the very boundary of both Narnia and Archenland.

He heard a small _prick_, the breaking of a twig. It practically echoed around the village.

Hissing in frustration he clenched his talon like fingers together to keep from blasting every single man he had behind him. _Pathetic fools…._

Above him towered on a great height the giants of the north… They were breathing very lightly but still released a misty fog which sounded thunderous.

Thankfully humans were far too stupid to understand where these noises came from. They would most probably think a storm was coming. A smooth rainfall which would be beneficial to their crops. _Too bad….._

A creepy smile forced its way on his scarlet lips which stood out alarmingly against his porcelain pale skin.

He raised his long fingers and signalled to his men who crept stealthily behind him. One of them, a bearded old fellow, raised a huge log which was on fire. The smoke crept upwards.

A signal: Prepare yourselves. We attack now.

The same smoke came back, blown down by the giants' quick, heavy breathing.

Another signal: We are ready.

Vladimar smiled again, showing his fangs prominent against his lips. He stared at the sleeping village wrapped in slumber thinking of all the comforts lying there.

Food, animals, clothing, woman, children, wine…..

He raised himself gracefully, snapping his fingers. His men charged forwards, dogged by the roaring giants.

Screams echoed around his ears as he stared pleasantly at the scene.

The slumbering village would sleep no more…

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Isabela tossed around the huge bed, her jet black hair strewn across the stuffed pillows. A light blanket covered her slim figure wrapped in a light, simple night gown.

She could not sleep.

In fact she thought she would never sleep again.

Not anymore.

Light snoring drifted up to her and she glanced up towards the marble floor. The sleeping form lying there was huge, tall and angular with well built muscles and a long neck.

Moonlight fell on his features showing his light blond hair, dead straight and softer than cream. Her fingers ached to run themselves through the locks. What!

Heat flooded Isabela's cheeks. What was she thinking? She must be going mad. She tossed feverishly to the side of the empty, cold seven poster bed.

Obviously the magnificent gentleman, the chivalrous Sir Peter Wolfsbane had refused to sleep on the bed while she slept on the floor. His eyes had flashed with anger and he had flatly refused.

'I may be unhappy but that does not mean I will let a lady sleep on the floor whatever the cost.'

She had argued hotly but the obstinate High King had ignored her argument, settling himself on the floor on a mattress which he assured her was more comfortable than any bed.

She could have screamed.

He had already gone to sleep as soon as his head fell on the pillow but Isabela had found it harder to fall asleep.

Sighing, she sat up, yanking her fingers through her long ringlets before throwing back the covers and stepping to the balcony which overlooked the sea.

It was huge and Isabela leaned against the railing, breathing deeply in the sea breeze. The sea too it seemed had gone to sleep, murmuring soothingly into the air and moving gently as if lolling itself into a deep slumber.

Isabela stared off in a distance at the clear midnight blue sky dotted with thousands of stars.

_What will I do now? _She thought to herself. _What am I supposed to do now? Where will I go? Oh Aslan, help me…..please_

She felt light tears prick her eyes.

_I will not cry. _She promised. _Not now. Never._

Unwillingly she felt the tears weave aimlessly and traitorously over her cheeks. _Of all the wretched things…. Why must I cry? _

She buried her face in her arms, trying to wipe away the tears. She did not care. Not anymore. She did not realize how long she had stayed there, in the same position.

She did not care.

She was too miserable to care.

It felt years after she felt s hand on her shoulder and Peter's anxious but still gentle voice in her ear.

'Isabela, are you alright?' He asked, running a hand hard through his fair hair.

She did not answer.

'Isabela just come in. Please. You will get ill.' He pleaded her. She remembered him saying that before, on the cold night. She shivered.

He felt that and his face paled.

'Are you alright? Lia for Aslan's sake answer me!' he ordered her, pulling her away from her cosy nest.

Her body protested weakly. It ached terribly and she cringed but was still defensive.

'I'm alright, Peter.' She told him but he was not convinced.

'Are you planning to kill yourself?' He very nearly shouted, shaking her. She pushed herself away, standing up.

'I told you, I am alright!' she snapped. Peter scowled losing his temper.

'May I ask you why you are shivering then?'

'No. You may not. Mind your own business!'

'My own bus-' He stopped, his voice turned cold. 'You're right. It is not my business. I told you that before.'

'Thank you for remembering.' She said mockingly. Peter glared at her angrily his tone icy.

'You are very welcome, my queen. And I bid you a good night.'

He turned away leaving her alone on the balcony.

_Dear Aslan, why don't _I_ ever walk away? Why is it always _him?

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Hope you all like it. I tried to include as much as I possibly could. Once again, I hope you love it. Review please! Please!

A. L. Potter


	18. The State of Affairs

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C.S. Lewis does.

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'Did anyone see the silvery moon with its slanting rays and the glittering stars last night at around midnight?' Edmund smirked slyly. 'I'm sure our newly wedded couple must have enjoyed such a bright night. A night fit for-'

Susan glared at him with an expression befitting a furious tiger defending her cubs and her eyes flashed dangerously. But Edmund was not one to be silenced by his elder sister's venomous looks.

'So, Peter, Lia.' Edmund leaned forwards, his expression mischievous and slightly malicious. 'Did you two have an entertaining night?'

If it hadn't been for Susan and Lucy who thumped both Peter and Isabela over the back several times, they would have either died from severe choking or from extreme embarrassment.

Isabela's cheeks felt as if they were on blazing, hot fire and she feverishly drowned goblet after goblet of water until Lucy put a gentle, restraining hand on her arm, smiling lopsidedly. Susan threw a ferocious glare at Edmund who half sank under the table. Peter however was composed enough to retort and he replied innocently.

'Well, Ed, I have to say the tableaux prepared by the Narnians for the reception were beautifully portrayed. I enjoyed them very much. Rarely have I seen so much grace. It was the only _entertaining_ thing last night.' Peter paused thoughtfully. 'And you know what, Ed? I seem to recall that Orieus mentioned specifically that yesterday was a _new moon _not _a silvery moon_ as you suggest.'

Edmund scoffed trying to redirect Peter's attention.

'Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder.'

'Don't live in a fool's paradise.' Peter shot back.

'Live and let live.' Edmund said, in his dramatic ways.

'Life is not a bed of roses.'

'It is better to shut up when you are having a conversation that is both foolish and highly stupid.' Susan said loudly, banging her spoon against the soup plate.

'I don't remember anyone saying that.'

'That's because she made it up herself, Edmund, you idiot!' Peter hit him over the head.

'Ouch! Since when did Su start teaching the subject of corporal punishment?'

'Corporal punishment is practiced in schools, Ed.' Susan sighed. 'Not castles and palaces or in a household.'

'Yes, Miss. I-Know-Everything.' Edmund mimicked Susan's voice perfectly. 'Remember they are dignitaries that is spelled d-i-g-n-i-t-a-r-i-s.'

'Wrong, as usual.' Susan said. 'Dignitaries also has an 'e' in it.'

'See what I'm talking about?' Edmund asked Isabela, setting his head on the table. 'This is the torture I am forced to go through everyday.'

'I can't say that you don't deserve it.' Isabela said dryly. Edmund mock gasped.

'You have hurt me, my lady. You have broken, no, cracked, no, shattered my heart!'

There was the sound of hooves in the doorway and soon Orieus appeared carrying with him a large number of scrolls. He had a frown on his wise face.

'My kings and queens, you must make haste and come to the Great Hall. Something grave has happened.'

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'My lord, they…they came from the east, they…..they killed my children, they abducted my young daughter…I beg you, my king… Please…. My daughter...' the man choked off, his voice muffled by the large tears that ran down his sunken cheeks.

He was young, that much Isabela, studying him from beside Peter's throne, could tell by looking at his tall, thin figure. But he seemed above fifty with his bruised eyes and bitten, gaunt skin which looked like crumbled paper.

She glanced again at her husband frightened by the intensity in his eyes. His face was covered completely with a blatant mask of white fury but he kept calm and collected, his eyes, blue as the seas flowing alongside were blank and calculating and he nodded once, briefly.

'Very well. I shall see to it immediately. Now you must go and rest.' He said not unkindly.

The man gave a scream of anguish but then stared at Peter with eyes full of hope. Thank you, thank you…. My king….'

Peter did not answer but instead signalled to Mr. Tumnus to take the man away who kept babbling and muttering about _the giants._

Peter sighed and rubbed his temples soothingly before turning to his siblings who were sitting on their respective thrones.

'What do you think?'

'I believe we should investigate properly into this matter.' Susan said at once, always the voice of logic and reason. 'Something is not right. We received no threat of rebels neither insurgents nor do we have any rivals or enemies. I deem it necessary to study this controversy thoroughly before taking any action.'

'But Su-' Lucy's voice was incredulous. 'These people obviously knew what they were doing. I mean attacking the very boundary of both Narnia and Archenland. Most obviously they were prepared to enrage both us and King Lune. We have to do something.'

'No.' Edmund said sharply and all eyes turned to him. 'I think Susan's right. We do not have any knowledge of these invaders. We do not know where they came from. If they have come because their own land was conquered then we are indeed facing a severe threat because then those people would be willing to fight till death now as they have now where to go back. We do not know if they are creatures or humans or-' he threw a glance towards the doors where the man had disappeared from. 'Or giants.'

Peter nodded.

'I agree with Edmund. We have to learn more about these invaders. Besides the village attacked was more towards the Archelander side than ours. Thus we do not have much to worry about. Yet. What do you think Isabela?'

Isabela glanced up, her delicate eyebrows shooting up in alarm and surprise but she replied calmly.

'I believe that what you are saying is correct but,' she hesitated. 'There were Narnians present there if not many and so you should send some search party to scan the area and find out the relevant information.'

Peter nodded slowly and glanced around at his siblings for any other proposal or disagreement. There was none.

'Very well.' He stood up, brushing his tunic and glanced at Orieus who stood at attention nearby. 'Orieus, prepare a search party of our best spies and warriors and give them the best equipment that we have. King Edmund and I shall come shortly to the courtyard.'

'Yes, my liege.' Orieus galloped off, his hooves thudding against the marble floors.

'And so it begins again.' Edmund noted, leaning against a pillar. 'Aslan help us all.'

'He will.' Lucy said confidently, her eyes bright. 'I know he will. I have complete faith in him.'

Isabela saw Peter glancing almost blankly at the open balcony, his eyes intent and thoughtful. He met her green eyes and without a word walked off, his steps lithe and smooth followed by Edmund who waved at Lucy.

Susan sighed, touching her curls lightly.

'May Aslan be with us.'

Isabela did not reply.

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'It's beautiful, Lucy.'

Lucy laughed loftily and held up the rose coronet she was weaving with her hands and placed it gently on Isabela's head. It looked ravishing, the blood red of the roses against Isabela's night black hair and pale skin.

'Where is Susan?' Isabela asked, glancing around and noting that the Gentle Queen was not present there.

'Probably in her room, after all, the handsome prince is coming.' Lucy grinned wickedly. Isabela stared at her.

'Who is coming?' she repeated Lucy's words, dazed. Noticing her expression Lucy giggled.

'Prince Rabadash, Susan's darling, of course!'

Isabela nearly choked on her goblet of orange juice prepared by the dryads for her. That was the second time this day.

'Prince Rabadash?' she asked horrified and disgusted. 'Prince Rabadash is the _handsome prince?'_

Lucy looked at her curiously and nodded and then a voice issued from behind Isabela.

'Don't worry, Lia. I feel the same way about him.' Edmund said wearily. Isabela could not help but notice the dark bags which had blossomed under his coffee-colour eyes, the same as those beneath Peter's sea blue eyes.

'Oh. Can I disappear from the castle when he comes?'

Edmund chuckled but Lucy looked at her disapprovingly.

'You're the High Queen. You have to be present.'

'We'll be present for dinner.' Edmund promised winking at Isabela. 'Right now, we have some important duty in the Western Wood. It is up to you to find out what. Come, Lia!'

Lucy mock huffed but waved to them, smiling brightly.

Edmund led her to the pasture behind the castle, open and wide and running for several kilometres. There were around millions of horses grazing there and neighing loudly. Then one opened its mouth and bowing said.

'Good morning, my king and my queen.'

'Talking horses.' Edmund mouthed to the gaping young woman beside him. 'And a good morning to you, Anora.'

Another horse trotted up, shaking his mane and patting Edmund's head affectionately.

'Come on Philip, old boy. Do you know how to ride a horse?' he asked Isabela.

'No.' she said sarcastically. 'Of course not. How could I?'

Edmund rolled his eyes and sprung gracefully up on Philip, extending his hand to her.

'You can ride Anora. I'm sure she will be pleased to accompany you.'

Anora beamed and leaned forwards eagerly.

'My lady.' She bowed low to assist Isabela in climbing onto her back. Isabela did so, fingering Anora's mane gently.

They rode off, flying with the wind; it brushed tenderly against their cheeks. Isabela laughed the sound ringing around the castle. Edmund led her through the thick forest until they reached a clear cliff with the shade of three, four trees singing and dancing in the breeze. Finally they skidded to a pause and Edmund gestured for her to alight, putting a finger on his lips. Isabela complied.

They kneeled near the foot of the fruit trees glancing around. Isabela finally understood why they were here when she caught sight of the Calormen party moving through the trail beneath. Edmund jumped to his feet catching a small orange and aiming in carefully at the party. Before Isabela could have stopped him, she saw horrified the orange hitting the pompous Rabadash in the head.

He gave a scream of outrage and yelled like a child in tantrum. One of his cousins, riding alongside him looked around but another orange hit him squarely in the face. Isabela laughed and Rabadash's face shot up, in astonishment and anger.

Both she and Edmund ducked and Rabadash screamed with extreme fury, stamping his horse on the sides before the party moved along, supporting the unhappy, dark prince.

Isabela felt her sides ache from laughing and Edmund roared along with her. Soon after Philip trotted up to them, neighing disapprovingly.

'I just received a message from the High King ordering you to come back. He is not happy. Not happy at all.'

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'Prince Rabadash.' Peter greeted coolly, his expression proud but gracious, his tone was to charm. 'Welcome to Cair Paravel.'

'Thank you, my king.' Here Rabadash bowed his voice nasal. 'I am most obliged to be able to visit your beautiful home again.'

Peter nodded, inclining his head in a quick bird-like movement.

'Let me introduce you to my royal sisters, Queen Lucy and Queen Susan.'

Prince Rabadash moved forwards, taking Lucy's hand in his and kissing it lightly.

'You must be the vivacious, valiant, warrior Queen of Narnia, Her Highness Lucy.'

'That would be correct.' She said, smiling slightly before stepping next to Peter and Rabadash turned to the smiling Susan.

'And of course you must be the Queen Susan, famed for her beauty, kindness, diplomacy and compassion. Anyone would be unable to recognize you for few can even rise up to the extreme level of your beauty.'

Colour tinged Susan's white cheeks which bloomed beautifully.

'Thank you, Your Highness. I welcome you to Cair Paravel with the hope that you enjoy your stay.'

'Thank you, Madame.' He said in his Calormen accent and everybody but Peter did not notice the fact that he gad not addressed her as a queen, so charmed were they by him.

He clenched his fists and maintained a cool expression for his sister's sake. Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed Edmund making his way to the thrones with Isabela on his arm.

As they got closer Edmund leaned down and whispered something to Isabela that made her smile and Peter shot them a quizzical glance, barely tilting his head.

Rabadash's thick eyebrows shot up in surprise and his friend beside him blurted out.

'You let your wife wander around with your brother?'

Edmund's face did not turn white with anger but he did turn his full glower on the man who had spoken, his expression cold. Peter spoke icily, his voice dripping with venom.

'My brother, King Edmund, is closer to me than any person can possibly be, we are one and he is a close friend and a brother to the High Queen. I am glad that my family shares such a close relationship with Isabela, most grateful to them for being a family to her.'

The young man stuttered into silence and Rabadash shot him an annoyed glance and gave an irritated twitch of his hands.

'I beg your pardon, High King Peter but my friend suffers from occasional bouts of insaneness.' He offered.

Peter smiled tightly and extending his arm gently towards Isabela who glanced up at him before taking it gingerly. Peter did not even look at her but simply gestured to a nearby faun to prepare a meal for the guests.

'Please.' He said. 'Join us for lunch.'

Susan nodded graciously, holding up her skirts as she moved to the kitchens. As they accompanied Rabadash and his party to the Dining Room Peter whispered lightly to Isabela.

'I hope you did not take to heart Prince Rabadash's companion's words.'

She smiled teasingly.

'Are you jealous, my lord?'

A faint smile flitted over Peter's stunning features and he laughed.

'Me? Absolutely not.'

'Why is it that I don't believe you, my king?' She asked him as he pulled back a chair for her.

'Perhaps because of your stubbornness?' Peter offered mockingly before sitting down at the head of the table with a grinning Edmund at his side.

'By the way where were you Ed?' Lucy asked, grasping her long gold dress around her. Edmund gulped down the water from the goblet he was holding in one stroke, coughing. Peter and Rabadash turned to look at him.

'I was around Lucy, in the castle.' He added. Prince Rabadash sat up as if reminded of something.

'Which reminds me, this afternoon I was attacked and my party ravaged by a horrid siege of flying oranges. Or was it pomegranates?'

Isabela met Peter's eyes and tried to fight back the smile forming on her face but he saw it and shaking his head, he turned to Rabadash.

'Well, Prince Rabadash I am certain King Edmund will deal with the flying oranges that dare to attack you.'

'Yes! Yes!' Edmund said grinning from ear to ear and failing to appear solemn. 'They will most certainly be punished. Those tiny little, unloving things that dare to attack such a big, huge prince.'

Susan shot him one of her famous glares and he shut his mouth.

'I think we should hold a ball in accordance with Prince Rabadash's arrival. Don't you think so?' she turned to Lucy and Isabela.

'Yes, Su, do so!' Lucy said excitedly. Isabela nodded half heartedly already wearied of balls and parties.

'Thank you, my queen. But I do not want you to ruin your perfect hands and feet in preparations for a ball.'

'She won't.' Edmund promised. Susan glowered at him furiously, smashing her foot against his knee. 'On second thought she might.'

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_Wind whipped ferociously against her, causing her hair to alight and dance wildly to the shrieking of the wind. She could see nothing…. Feel nothing… Where was she? Where was everybody else? There was nobody, nobody there. She ran around, clawing against the wind, fighting fluttering nothingness in her fierce desire to see somebody, anybody. _

_She should not have spoken and as she turned around, feeling a large presence over her, she paled. Vladimar glanced down at her with some spirits waving around him. Ghosts. Bloodied, bruised ghosts. And she recognized them but one of them was missing, Lorien. They were all there. Father, mother, Dane, Ginerva and…_

'_JAMES_!' she cried out, clutching at her throat.

'Isabela!' Somebody was shaking her, buffeting her like the wind had and then there was light. Peter's anxious, frowning face was above her, his eyes worried.

'Are you alright, Isabela?' he asked, patting her back soothingly. He had years of experience with Lucy's nightmare. 'It's alright. You are alright now, Lia. Go to sleep. You will truly get ill now. And then who will I fight with?'

He inquired his expression flowing from anxiety to amusement to worry and she hot him. He glanced at her astonished.

'Why did you hit me?' he asked surprised.

'Because you deserved it Peter Pevensie!'

'I did?' he asked. 'I can see you are fine now.'

'Of course, I'm fine!' she snapped. 'Why wouldn't I be?'

'That's it, I'm going to sleep.'

'Did I stop you?' she asked angrily hitting her head against the pillow.

'No and I wish you a good night, my _queen_.' He said sarcastically.

'And a good night to you, my _king_.'

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'Isabela, wake up!' A voice vaguely familiar hissed, shaking her. Isabela mumbled incoherently and buried her face in the pillow.

'Isabela…' the voice threatened. 'Get up now!'

'I don't want to!' Isabela protested yawning like a kitten. Peter growled with frustration.

'Isabela it's important, very, very important.' He said trying to persuade her to get up. She glanced at him in wonder, barely recognizing him, through heavily lidded eyes.

'Go away!' She threw a pillow at him.

'Isabela!'

She did not answer.

'Isabela, get up now or I will throw icy water at you, I promise.'

Isabela jolted out of bed, her long hair in tangles, her eyes wide open with alarm.

'Alright, alright… what?' Grumbling she leaned against the pillow burying her face in it.

'We've just received news from the north and it is anything but good.'

'How about excellent?' Isabela offered. Peter glared at her, his flaming eyes boring into hers and she smiled weakly.

'Bad news?'

'You have no idea. Our scouts were attacked. Now it is war.'

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And so another chapter! Thanks for waiting patiently, all of you! Thanks tons for those encouraging me to write on, it is only because of you that I continue and these reviews help me write on! Keep them coming guys and thanks again for taking out your precious time for them.

Hope you like this chapter! Reviews ( as usual ) please!

A. L. Potter


	19. A Solemn Pledge

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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The bleak atmosphere of the room, tinted with misery, anger and a desire for revenge reminded Isabela of a death chamber. If the golden sunlight hadn't been shimmering into the room, lighting up its interior she might have fled it but despite her inner feelings she remained in her seat on the round table glancing at the impassive face of the High King beside her.

She was the High Queen, after all.

Peter knelt his head over a large pile of papers and pictures sprawled over the large, polished table, his fair head ducked down and his sea blue eyes running over the documents, boring down into each curve of the letter.

Isabela realized it was tinged with drops of blood and ink on different areas and she shivered. _Blood._

Edmund was deep in discussion with one of the Narnian generals, Lord Peridan who had a wise face, shadowed by a shock of a dark hair, and a kindly manner. A map of Narnia was laid out before them with Edmund's messy writing here and there, marking important areas and discarding the unimportant ones. A battle plan.

They were planning to fight.

Of course.

She turned her eyes back to the letter catching the small, faded phrases.

_My lord Peter, they were monsters…. Black beards, large heads…. Larger than a normal man, not even humans are that tall….. huge…..fierce….a furious wind whipped about… faces invisible….. so high…. It was beyond…. Us…destroyed everything… people screamed…. Locals say…. Spirits of the dead….. not sure but….. certainly from tales and legends… I must go…. Hope…..May Aslan_

'He didn't get to finish the letter, my liege.' A fatally injured bear croaked out, clutching its bandaged paw. 'I had too run before..' he faltered. 'I hope you understand, my lord.'

'I do.' Peter said firmly, raising his eyes. 'I understand that you tried your best and I am proud of these soldiers. They shall be honoured and their families supported and assisted by us.'

'Yes.' Susan agreed in a soft voice. 'I will make sure of that.'

'My lord, I believe the creatures that are spoken of in this letter are the natives of the north.' Mr. Tumnus said, fingering his scrawny beard. 'I have heard of them before. I believe they are known in your world as… giants. Yes.'

'_Giants?' _Isabela asked, incredulously, her voice slightly high. _'Giants?'_

'Yes. Giants, my queen Lia.' Mr. Tumnus said, apparently alarmed. 'I have not distressed you, have I my lady?'

'No. Not at all, Mr. Tumnus. I was just… surprised by this.'

'And the fact that giants are real.' Edmund said dryly.

'Well that too.' Isabela said heat rising to her cheeks.

'There is nothing to be startled about, my queen.' Peridan said calmly. 'Almost everything is possible in Narnia.'

'What do you propose we do?' Edmund interrupted, peeking at his brother under his night-like bangs.

'I think you know, Ed.' Peter said in his exasperatingly composed manner. 'We fight.'

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'I want to go with you.'

Peter did not answer but just strode across the room.

'Peter!' Isabela said sharply, throwing a pillow at him.

'Yes, Isabela?' he asked impatiently, not stopping even for a second.

'Can I go with you?'

'Where to?' He asked running a hand through his blond, dead straight hair. Isabela stared at him, her mouth agape.

'To war, of course!'

'Absolutely not!' Peter said sternly, his expression strict. 'Not you.'

'Please, Peter.'

'No.'

A pout formed on her mouth and she stared at Peter, tears pooling in her eyes.

Peter turned around stunned by her expression.

'Isabela?' he asked anxiously, sitting down beside her. 'Are you hurt?'

She did not speak but stared at him, her eyes huge and pleading.

'Are you crying?' he asked in utter disbelief. He tilted his head to the side and then scowled as he saw the smile fighting on her lips.

'Never do that again!' he said angrily getting up.

'Come on, Peter! I can take care of myself. And I can fight very well.'

'That doesn't matter.' He shook his head. 'You are a queen. And queens do not fight in battles. I do not doubt your skills. But if you go, both my sisters will also insist on going.'

'But warrior queens fight in battles. Susan did in the First Battle of Beruna.' She protested.

'That's different. It was a desperate situation and we needed all the soldiers we could get. And I intend that it never happens again.'

'But Peter.' She said getting up and catching his arm. 'Please?'

Peter sighed, rubbing his eyes.

'Isabela I am tired. Let us discuss this tomorrow.'

'But tomorrow you leave for battle!'

'Hm…'

'Peter if you don't let me come with you then I will run away to join you by myself.'

'What? Have you gone insane?' He thundered losing his temper. 'Do you plan on committing suicide? Are you so eager to get yourself killed?'

'Stop being so over dramatic Peter.' Isabela admonished mockingly. 'You are a king not a child.'

Peter huffed and crossed his arms, his hair standing up, the tips shining in the sunlight.

'No. I forbid it as your king.'

'But, Peter-'

'Isabela…' He wandered off as there was a hurried knock on the door. He called out, striding to open the doors.

'Come in!'

'I couldn't help overhearing your conversation, Peter and I believe that Lia's reasons are fully justified. She deserves a chance to prove herself, don't you think?'

'Lucy.'

'Hey! I am here too!' Edmund protested shaking his head and walking into the room. 'I believe Lia should come with us.'

Peter frowned deeply and stared disapprovingly at Isabela.

'So you convinced them too?'

'On the contrary we _overheard_ her persuasive argument and thought it best to help her.' Lucy said brightly. 'I think she should be included in the army.'

'And if she is killed?' Peter asked, raising his eyebrows. Edmund smiled softly.

'What if you are killed Peter or me?' He asked. 'We live the same danger, all of us. The enemy can even attack the castle while we are gone, then she can be killed. She can be killed in an accident, she can fall off a cliff or hit her head against the wall.'

'You make me seem like a complete klutz, Ed.' Isabela grumbled.

'Hey do you want to go or not?' He rolled his eyes. 'So, Peter, what is your final decision? May we be enlightened by your wise choice?'

Peter sighed.

'Prepare your clothing, Isabela. And you Ed. We leave at sunrise tomorrow.'

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Vladimar stared straight ahead, his narrowed eyes glistening in the light of the fire.

He tilted the goblet of wine he held in his hand and the blood red drops fell on a dead man lying unconscious, his head lolling beneath Vladimar's booted foot.

He smirked softly, lounging back against the chair with predatory laziness. He pushed back his head and emitted a loud almost manic laugh like a flushed Mad Hatter just back from a wild party.

His ears pricked up when he heard a man come in and he snarled at the intruder who fell down in alarm and fear.

'My… my lord, they…. They are coming…'

'Who? Who is coming?' He hissed springing to his feet. 'Surely not that old king of Archenland or those brats of Narnia.'

'The brats.' The man faltered. 'The kings and queens of Narnia are coming.'

Vladimar gave a wolf-like howl and through the goblet in the face of the man. It shattered against the man's skin and blood dropped from it.

He would not let them. As that worthless lion, Aslan, as his witness, he would kill those brats before they reached camp.

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'Take care.' Susan whispered softly. 'Protect yourselves completely. Wear warm clothing and remember to take your camping tents with you. Don't forget to drink plenty of water and eat a healthy breakfast before going out. Don't act rashly and watch your backs. And-'

'Oh Su. You act as if we are going away to another galaxy rather than going to war.' Edmund grumbled rubbing his dark eyes and yawning.

Susan glared violently at him and he laughed weakly before disappearing behind his elder brother.

'Take care Su. And you as well Lu.'

Susan nodded tearfully, waving her hand but Peter embraced her lightly and then wrapped his warm arms around Lucy's small frame.

'Come home soon.' She told him. He nodded. 'And especially you Lia.'

Isabela nodded, running a hand through her tangled ringlets.

'I will.'

They flung themselves on their horses, followed by the entire party, and soon were galloping off to the horizon where the sun lay, rising lazily and glowing gold. Susan stared after them.

'May Aslan be with you.' She whispered.

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Another chapter though way smaller. I hope you find it entertaining and brilliant. Thanks again for the reviews and keep reviewing. Thanks to all who take out the time to read and review my story.

A. L. Potter


	20. War

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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Peter ran a hand through his pale hair, straining his sea blue eyes in the dim illuminating glow of the lamp beside him as he studied the map held in his strong, long fingered hands.

It was a dangerous war to be sure. The enemy had cleverly positioned themselves on the top of the deadliest mountain range on the border of Archenland and Narnia.

It would prove to be favorable to them, no doubt.

They had the utmost advantage as Peter's army would have to first climb up the peak and that was no easy task. More over, they were only just prepared for the extreme, ruthless temperature of these mountains.

Automatically his eyes turned to the sleeping, slender form on the blanket-covered floor, breathing rhythmatically, her long black hair strewn over the pillow, stunningly prominent against the paleness of the pillow.

Why had he brought her along? He cursed himself for relenting. He cursed himself for allowing her to come. He cursed his sibling's reasonable argument.

Isabela was sure to get killed.

If not by the enemy, then by the extreme cold.

And he most certainly did not want that.

Isabela turned to him and he realized that her eyes were wide open. He studied them, deeply immersed by the emerald green color.

'I think you are falling in love, Peter, don't you?'

Peter scowled at her, a deep frown creasing his flawless features.

'Most certainly not.' He informed her. 'And if I do, it will not be with you.'

She yawned, hugging her blankets closer to her, to retain some degree of warmth.

'Whatever you say.' She tilted her head like a child's. 'Aren't you going to get some sleep? It's a big day tomorrow.'

'You have no idea.' Peter muttered. He continued formally. 'I will make sure to get some sleep as my lady so kindly suggests. I thank you for your concern.'

'Did some aliens tamper with your brain, my king? Why are you being so considerate?'

'Aren't I always considerate?' He said pompously, his expression one to befit an arrogant man.

'Please. You insult the considerate people by claiming to be in their category.' She rolled her eyes.

Peter drew back, appalled and greatly stunned by her openness. Not many women could talk to him let alone insult him like that.

She studied him owlishly and he felt slightly uncomfortable.

'You should go back to sleep. You won't have time to do so tomorrow.'

'Neither will you.'

'Will you stop comparing yourself to me?' Peter asked exasperated. 'I have many years of practice and I am a warrior and a knight and I have lived through the difficulties of war life. But you are used to living a lavish lifestyle and I fear for your health.'

'I have participated in numerous battles before. I was the commander-in-chief of the army of Liriope, elected not by my brothers but by my own people.'

Peter raised his eyebrows, leaning his long, muscled body against the table.

'That may be so but you lived as a princess and now as a queen. And more so it is not befitting a queen to fight in battles. Wars get revolting when there are women involved.'

'But men are always fighting in the battles. Why not women? Women can fight too.'

'It is not the question of the combat skills of a woman, Isabela. Believe me I know how well women fight. I grew up with Susan and Lucy and they are beyond skilled fighters, much better than some of my men. But-' He hesitated. 'It is the danger involved. I cannot bear to watch them die, fighting a battle meant for me. The danger of death is constant. And when I am in the field I have to continuously worry about their safety, whether they are alive or dead. And that is a source of immense distraction for me.'

'I will not be a distraction for you.'

'I hope not.' Peter said quietly, turning back to his map.

She stared at him, bewildered by his sudden change of attitude. Isabela pushed the heavy covers off her and stood up, her night gown falling in pleats to the floor.

Peter barely glanced up, his blond hair tousled and glistening in the faint light. That was until she moved next to him, lowering her head and studying the map he held.

'What is this? A map?'

'No, a caribou.' Peter replied sarcastically, moving over to make room for her. He added. 'Sit down, my lady.'

'Thank you.' She plucked down on a chair, crossing her legs to keep out the cold from her loose night gown.

'You should not be out of bed, my lady. You are cold.' He noted. 'It would not do well for you to get ill.'

Isabela sighed, brushing back the ringlets from her face.

'Why do you worry so much about me, Peter? Why do you bother to make sure that I am warm and comfortable and well fed when you said you do not care about me?' She demanded. 'You say I am a burden on you but most obviously you would not look after a _burden,_ would you?'

Peter's barely glanced up and seemed unsurprised by her outburst.

'I obviously have to care for you and look after you. You are my wife and I have to treat you as such. It was a promise I made when we made our vows.'

'Oh.'

'Yes, oh.' Peter chuckled softly in the night air. None of them spoke and the night was silent with the occasional humming of the mosquitoes. The crickets croaked and the toads twanged into the darkness.

'You should go to bed, Isabela.' Peter told her not glancing up from his map. When she did not answer, he turned around slightly, feeling a light weight on his shoulder. 'Isabela?'

Her head was placed on his shoulder, her silky locks tickling his neck, her breathing softer than cream. He could not contain the tender smile that spread over his face.

He stood up, gathering her limp form in his arms before striding across the room and placing her in the bed.

'Goodnight Isabela.'

His only answer was the quiet humming of the night.

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'LOOK UP, ALL! ATTACK!'

The awakening cry rang along the bare ground and everybody stood up straight as if infused with power, strength and stamina.

The old centaur, leading the left flank, roared and galloped off, his arrows whizzing one after the other, a complete blur. Behind him the Narnians cheered and shouted, waving their weapons, before running behind him causing dust to rise behind them.

They were under attack from the enemy. Again. Throughout the day Vladimar's army of demons and frightening men shot arrows and leveled spears as the Narnians struggled to climb up the slope.

Of course they fought back valiantly but it was difficult to do so what with a violent chaos and utter confusion everywhere. The soldiers sought refuge in the lush green trees and mulberry bushes ensnaring the mountain completely. But at present everything as cold and white and glistening like silver.

Snowflakes shot down ferociously from the murky gray sky, moving feverishly from side to side as if unable to decide where to land.

Isabela pushed back her black bangs and glanced up, her eyes scanning the border of the mountain. Clumsily she patted the bow at her side.

_Stupid fool! _She thought angrily. _Arrows and you? Ha!_

But still it was a more effective measure than using a sword or a dagger. You would have been killed before you even got a chance to pull your weapon out.

Her locks blew roughly in her face blinding her briefly and in that instant she felt herself plummeting to the ground, her blazing cheek icy against the snow. Somebody scrambled from her and she heard Edmund's voice shouting to her.

'Lia! Are you alright?' He searched her face anxiously as she smiled weakly.

'I'm alright.' She said lightheartedly. Edmund muttered to himself.

'Peter will kill me.'

'Don't be silly, Edmund. Now!' She got to her feet. 'Let's go forward and show those cockroaches what we've got!'

The following hours were a blur and Isabela wove from one place to another, defending a place strong in attacks and attacking in an area holding up its shields. For one instant there was Edmund by her side, his hair matted to hi wide forehead, his eyes narrowed in concentration. And on other times Peter would blow a deadly arc with his glittering sword, his expression cold and cool. He was one person she would never understand.

It was all a vague impression and by midnight when the enemy retreated Isabela literally fell on her bed, her bones aching with fatigue and exhaustion. But sleep still would not come and she lay awake tossing and turning until Peter entered the tent, his face paler than death and sat down beside her.

'Sleep, Isabela.' He ordered sternly when he caught her wide open eyes.

'I can't.' She complained tiredly. Peter stared at her and let out a humorless laugh.

'Isabela if you fall down tomorrow from utter sleepiness, I swear I will kill you.'

Isabela held up her head, dazed and disorientated from weariness.

'Oh joy.' She said to him sarcastically.

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Susan sat down, curling her long ringlets, ever so stylishly decorated, on her fingertips as she waited for her handmaidens to help her dress up for the ball.

Slowly the ghostly dryads flitted in, holding forth a lavish rich blue dress which complimented Susan's slim figure. Their expert fingers wove Susan's hair into a Narnian coiffure and massaged her cheeks gently to bring color to them.

As evening set lazily over the horizon Susan withdrew from her room, opening the doors to meet Rabadash, handsomely dressed, and already extending his arm to her. She sighed. _It would be a beautiful night._

The Calormen royalty had decorated their Ball Room in traditional style with rich, dark hues. Sensuous black drapes fell from the high windows, curling and rolling over the marble floor. The ceiling was swathed in long fabric of deep red color which spilled down on intervals. It was utterly striking.

The room was filled with differed people, many Calormen, dark, tall and well built, and foreigners even, proud and noble. They were engulfed in dark colors too. Involuntarily Susan shivered. The dark colors seemed to strangle her and suddenly she longed for the bright Narnians, her own people, who were like her in so many ways.

She felt a light pressure on her arm and looked up to see Rabadash glancing down at her, eyebrows raised.

'My lady, would you care to dance with me?'

She tried to smile and nodded politely, placing her arm on his high shoulder. Music filtered around them and purplish lights flew around the ball room. Susan glanced up nervously.

Her heart contradicted and she felt everyone watch her, with leering, smirking faces. She couldn't breathe and for one instant she felt faint.

_Aslan help me please. What is happening to me?_

But she didn't have time to dwell on it. Because at that moment the lights went out and the room turned shadowy and dark.

_Aslan…_

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And so! The war has finally begun.

L. Potter


	21. Fool Me Once

**Author's Note**: I want to inform all my readers that the Susan/Rabadash scene is not strictly according to C. S. Lewis's writing and more of my own imagination. Other than that I wish you all a good reading!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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Susan raised her head, blinking in the sudden light as the door to the murky room opened. She groaned as she moved her stiff neck.

It bitterly cried out against it, protesting vehemently and for one lightning instant Susan felt as if she was going to die.

Where was she?

Certainly not in Cair Paravel.

Her luxuriant curls, glossy and glittering black, now hung limply by her face in loose ringlets and dust was splattered across her face.

_Oh Aslan, help me…_ _Please…_

She heard light footsteps and within a few minutes a pair of finely polished boots appeared in Susan's line of sight. She tried to hold up her head and stared unbelievably into the sneering face of Prince Rabadash.

Impossible.

Utterly Impossible.

Completely Impossible.

She did not believe her eyes.

But even as she thought that, Rabadash leaned down and smirked, saying loudly in his mocking voice.

'So Princess Susan, tied up in chains in a servant quarter? How can it be so?'

'Not princess, Rabadash, Queen. Queen Susan of Narnia. You have to address me as such.'

Anger ran across Rabadash's face and he raised his hand to blow a stinging slap to her cheek.

Susan gasped, touching her red cheek, now filled with pain. He grinned jubilantly. His expression sickened her.

Now she remembered. Mere flashes. The ball….. the dance….. lights out….. darkness….. and then nothing.

They had kidnapped her!

'What do you want, Rabadash?' she asked dully, realizing her foolishness.

'Dear Susan, the sight of your beauty hurts me so. I hate to see it ruined and in chains. And so I propose a deal.'

'What deal?' she gritted her teeth. Rabadash smiled pointedly.

'You become my bride and I free you. Come now Susan, your brothers have gone away to war, your sister is alone. You wouldn't want something to happen to her, would you?'

Susan swallowed. _Lucy. Not her._

She would do anything. Anything.

Her voice faltered as she began to speak, trembling

'I…'

It was then that the door to the murky room flew open, crashing against the neighbouring wall.

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Edmund dipped swiftly, like a lithe bird swerving to avoid a flying rock, as the enemy's sword went crashing over his head.

His dark eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth against the force of the attack. The dance of death had begun.

He pushed his skinny from around the ground occasionally ducking and bending low. He raised his thin sword round and round in a curve as the enemy yowled and fell to their feet, dead.

It was not over yet.

Not in the least.

He pushed back his coffee coloured hair, confusion lining his face as he saw the few wounded men, running away.

'Should we follow them?' One of the centaurs shouted, shooting arrow after arrow, stabbing two of the men trying to escape.

Edmund thought quickly.

No.

If they gave chase to the enemy they would spread out too much and it was very clear that the men were running back to their camp where other soldiers resided.

It would be freely giving in to death.

'No!' he bellowed to the Narnians closer to the fleeing men than he. 'Fall back! Do not follow them!'

They were reluctant but came back to him, gathering together, some falling to the ground in pain because of the wounds they had sustained and others hurrying to take them to the healers.

Edmund scanned the boundary. The village was still not completely free of occupation and understandably its natives were unwilling to come out and talk.

He signalled to Orieus who was shouldering his ash wood bow. He trotted over

'I hope you were not wounded, my lord Edmund.'

'Likewise Orieus . Do you have any knowledge of the other commandments? Of Peter or Isabela?'

'I am worried as you are, my lord. I have not heard of them since morning when King Peter and that Vladimar went into battle. The different commandments spread out in different directions. No one knows where they are but it was confirmed that they are nearby. The High King in the north and the High Queen towards the west. Do you propose we send more soldiers to them?'

'No. But do send some Narnians to scan he border of the Narnian camp. Post soldiers at different areas and make sure that the camp is well protected. And come to my tent then along with the available commanders of the commandments and Lords Peridan and Cale. We need to discuss different strategies.'

'Yes my lord.' Orieus went off, burying away to assemble the required people.

Half an hour later, all of them sat cross legged across the woven mat laid against the cold floor. Some leaned against the poles supporting the tent.

'My lord Edmund, the enemy seems weak compared to the description provided by the search party sent by us. Giants.' Lord Cale asked thoughtfully. He was a young man, barely older than Peter but was a sickly shade of pale because of his Archenlander descent. 'Where do you suppose they are hiding then?'

'Cale someone like you should know that giants cannot be hidden.' Peridan reprimanded, throwing a grin at Edmund. 'However I think they are still unsure of our potential. These tribal people do not know of what kings and queens are.'

'But still,' A faun argued. 'My lord it seems suspicious. These people are hiding something.'

'Yes, giants.' Edmund said dryly. He wanted to continue when a young squirrel scurried in, shyly gesturing towards Edmund.

'What is it Alvin?' He asked.

Alvin coughed lightly.

'My lord Edmund, King Peter is back.'

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Isabela gasped as she felt the sword sliding just beside her back, the hair on her spine standing up and freezing as goose bumps broke out over her skin. She glanced up through her bangs, ducking expertly to the side, her figure waving around, almost dancing, as she tried to escape the bloodied sword jabbed at her again and again relentlessly.

She gave fleeting look at the masked man in front of her, covered in armour with black wrappings. He grinned at her wolfishly, his expression hungry for blood.

'You can't dance forever, my pretty one.' He cooed to her.

'I won't.' she replied sweetly and lunged at him, her own thin blade of pure steel weaving out before her in a lethal arc that left a large scar on the chest of her opponent.

He snarled at her, fury lining his features hidden behind the mask.

'I'll kill you!' he growled, waving his weapon, his expression befitting a maniac. 'I'll kill you!'

'You can try.' She said, her tone taunting and she jabbed harshly at him with her sword.

He staggered back and stared at her, amazed.

She did not waste a breath and applied her full force, which wasn't much considering her weight, on his sword, their weapons matching like thunder crackling.

He fell back and the metallic blade flew out of his hand, weaving around, suspended in the air. He fell to his feet, clutching his chest.

Isabela's chest tightened when she saw the red blood staining his pale hand. She tried to smile triumphantly but failed as her eyes followed his limp form flop in front of her feet like a rag doll.

She stared at him, her face pale and haggard. _Oh Aslan…. What have I done? _

Suddenly she felt something sliding through her flesh and she turned around to meet the steady, smirking glare of an old man.

The moment of pity had allowed a thin dagger to slide through Isabela's shoulder forcing her to scream in sudden pain. She collapsed down, clutching her shoulder as her victim had previously.

The man glanced briefly at her, his gaze taken aback and snide.

'Women are no more than dolls. Shouldn't be involved in battles. Your king ought to know that.' He said gruffly. She glared at him, venomously.

Gritting her teeth she jumped lithely to her feet, her wounded arm's muscles clenched and tensed. She narrowed her eyes into green slits and leaped on his, furiously hitting him with the hilt of her sword.

He howled in pain and pushed her back, waving his hands wildly. She clutched his collar sharply, struggling to stay on her feet and keeping hold of him.

He pushed her sword back with his own and fiercely scratched at her. She ducked back from his lethal blows, zigzagging from one side to another.

He followed her, raising his hand to stab her but she grasped his hand sharply and used all her force to twist it back so that his own dagger pointed towards him.

He lifted one heavy hand and hit her on her stinging shoulder. She bit her lip so hard that blood appeared; she could taste it. But she did not let go. She would not let go.

But then she felt herself flying off the man and her aching shoulder colliding against the ground and the red earth flew into her eyes temporarily blinding her as her head hit the ground along with her body.

She struggled to get up and rubbing at her eyes saw a hairy man with long, brownish hair that could have classified him as a wolf. He grinned at her, his teeth yellow and dirty. She grimaced.

He held up his long fingered hands and flashed his eyes back at his two companions. A signal_: Cover me. Don't you dare disobey me._

Isabela glanced around desperately for her sword and saw it was lying just beyond her reach. She rolled down, her fingertips reaching out towards it and she fought to get on her feet.

Her ankle turned around and she winced. _Damn it!_

The wolfish man grinned again and lunged at her. In fact all of the men jumped on her. She fell back, gasping from the struggle and waving her sword wildly.

She hit anyone and everyone.

The wolfish man cried out as she stabbed him in the throat. He glared at her with his slit, yellowish pupils. His hands shot out grasping her throat. She kicked him off.

By the time the enemy retreated and the remaining one hurt man scurried off like a rabbit desperate for its burrow, Isabela was aching all over, every move painful, every inch of her body hurt.

Quietly she slipped into the tent assigned to her and Peter before anyone could spot her. Already Peter had warned her to keep her position in her mind even after a battle. He had been kind but Isabela had understood the hidden meaning behind his words.

She laughed bitterly.

A High Queen couldn't be seen in the state she was in.

She glanced at the mirror, gaping at the ghostly white face she saw.

_It is me,_ she thought dully.

Blood lightly tinged her cut lip, running in a slim layer across her jaw. She rubbed it with burning hot water to stop the flow of blood.

The cool feeling of her nightgown over her offered her some relief as she sank into the same delirious slumber she had in the previous days of war.

It seemed only a few seconds when Peter shook her awake, hastily kicking away the covers from her as he raced down the large aisle lined with Narnian camps followed by the galloping Orieus.

What was going on now?

Couldn't the enemy rest for a while?

Alarmed shouts reached her ears and she sleepily rubbed her eyes trying to focus in on her surroundings.

She failed.

Finally she managed to stumble out of the tent, her hair messy and curled from sleep. What she saw made her heart stop.

Gusts of wind blew directly overhead, swirling wildly and in a maniac way. The whirls upon whirls of the blustery weather gathered together. The full moon which could have been clearly seen just minutes before disappeared behind greyish clouds which crawled over the night sky.

The thunder, which even as she stared, crackled overhead and as she looked on it flew fiercely through the galaxies to blast a depression in the earth.

And as Isabela was pushed back by the roaring crowd of Narnians, holding tents and weapons and food and other things they could possibly carry, it began to rain.

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Hope you all like it! Please tell me what you think. Your suggestions and comments are warmly welcomed! Reviews!

A. L. Potter


	22. Once Upon A December

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia C. S. Lewis does.

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Isabela looked out from under the scarlet red hood covering her lone figure. It flowed loosely around her as it was originally Peter's.

Rain dripped down from the stormy sky, gathering on the very edge of her lashes and as she blinked it seemed as if tears were running down her pale face.

She leaned against the tree shadowing hers and Peter's tent. It was almost bare but the yellow, pale crimson and russet leaves that hung limply on it said otherwise.

Winter was here.

She glanced around her. The Narnian camp was filled with people moving back and forth, clad in woollen cloaks and squinting in the cold. Fauns, their fur long and soft, scampered to and fro, carrying the minimum resources they had left.

Food.

Water.

Bandages.

All running out.

Peter had sent a message to Lucy through the dryads to send more supplies but the cold weather and blustery winter rain had delayed them.

She lifted a pale hand from under the long hood and pulled it over her head so as to shield herself from the piercing wind.

However it fell down as she glanced up when she felt a shadow looming over her. It looked sharp and vaguely menacing.

'Sometimes I worry you loose your sanity Lia, at occasional intervals of course. But you do. I really do worry you do.'

Isabela smiled slightly, her miserable mood lifted as Edmund flopped down beside her, a crisp bread loaf in his hand.

'Would you like some, my lady? You look terribly famished.' He offered.

'You're being overdramatic, Ed. I am not hungry.'

Not hungry since the giant attack at their previous camp. It had been terrifying to be a witness to it.

Now she realized what an ant must feel like when a human stepped next to it. Or on it.

She shuddered thinking about how many sleeping people had been crushed to death by the breezy attack. It had been as if all hell had broken loose and taken out its fury on them.

Since then there had been occasional skirmishes but no real war except the last one which again involved the bloody giants.

'Winter is here.' She noted. Edmund stared at her as if she had lost her mind.

'My, how quick you realized that, my lady.' He said sarcastically, swallowing a large piece of bread.

Sometimes she truly wondered where the mighty amount of food Edmund ate went to.

'You know Susan returned to Narnia last week.' Edmund told her. 'Rabadash turned out to be a nasty, rotten, wretched piece of slime after all. He tried to force Susan to become his bride.'

Isabela placed a light hand on Edmund's shoulder which was trembling with anger.

'So that was why Peter was disturbed last week. He must have been furious.'

'Obviously.' Edmund shook his head in disgust. 'Anyways, Susan was accompanied by King Lune's son Cor and his wife Aravis. Aravis was wounded in the journey and when the Tisroc of Calormene came to realize of their involvement he waged a war on Archenland _and_ Narnia.'

'Oh God. What did they do?'

'What they can do. Susan went to Cair Paravel to assume the diplomatic duties. Lucy led the Narnian army into battle along with King Lune and his family leading the Archenlander army.'

'Why did nobody tell me of this?' Isabela asked him, the hurt obvious in her voice. 'Did you not trust me?'

'Of course not Lia!' Edmund said incredulously. 'You're family! I was much too busy and Peter ..…. Well he is not very expressive, is he?'

Isabela did not answer.

'Who won?' she asked him, staring at rain dropped from the branch of a tree.

'We did.'

'At least we had one victory. Lately all we have are defeats.'

'Not at all, Lia. We won just last week and against _giants._'

'And lost over forty Narnians.'

Edmund turned away and they sat in silence until a centaur came up to them.

'My lord, King Peter requests your presence.'

Edmund jumped onto his feet, the bread flying out of his hand. A large wading bird dipped down and caught it in its beak before gliding off.

'I'll see you later, Lia.' Edmund offered. Isabela smiled lightly and waved.

She stared after them as they disappeared around a corner.

It was then she noticed the large yellow eyes glaring at her from amongst the bushes. Nervously she patted the ground for her sword.

Brushing her cloak she jumped to her feet to see the crouching figure turn away. She ran after it, glancing hesitatingly for only one instant.

_I'll go._ She decided.

It led her through the abundant shrubs and bushes and the clumps of trees to a large cliff. And then it disappeared.

Vanished.

Into thing air.

She glanced around for it but could see it nowhere. Nothing. Juts the howling wind, screaming in her ears. And along with it she heard a low yowling.

Goosebumps collided against each other on her skin. Nervously she took a step back towards the bushes.

Another growl.

This time from behind her.

She froze. _Dear Aslan…What now?_

Something was coming towards her, its growls growing louder by the second. With her back towards the cliff she stepped back.

One step.

Two steps.

She shouldn't have. A branch cracked under her feet and the creature appeared. Except it wasn't a monster.

A human.

Just like her.

Except for the twelve inches long hair growing in occasional places on his body. His gnarled skin fell in flops and the red veins stood prominently. His yellow eyes glared hungrily at her.

Terror seized her in its impenetrable gaze and she could not think properly.

All she could think was: _I'm going to die._

_I'm going to die._

_I'm going to die._

_Aslan, help me!_

It did not hesitate, lunging at her, its hands closed in around her throat and shoved her roughly. Losing her balance she toppled down the cliff, her foot slipping on the edge, her figure wavering from the struggle between her and the monstrous man.

The next instant she was falling. Everything was a blur like the coloured flashes of an unruly painting. Rain pierced her face and then… she felt the icy feeling of death and cold.

Water. She had fallen into a frozen river, breaking though the ice. Blood flowed down her cheek. Or was it water. Her body was numb and she felt… nothing.

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Peter slashed his sword in a circular motion, rising it high in the air so that the moonlight glinted off it before letting it fall loosely on his opponent. It was the law of the jungle. Kill or be killed.

The man kept staring at him with his motionless eyes before he emitted a raspy strangled voice.

'My children.'

Peter did not look away but his gaze softened though it remained steady and strong as ever. He had to do this. It was his duty to rid the kingdom of the rebels and protect his own people. His heart hardened when he remembered the cries of the innocent villagers.

'The villagers you murdered also had children.' He told the sinking man who moaned. 'Young children. Some unborn. And you killed them. I am simply returning the favour.'

'My lord. Please….' He fell to his knees and clutched Peter's feet. 'I…. I only ask you to help my children. Don't….don't let them follow the path of bloodshed.'

'I will.' Peter said firmly as he felt the man's body thump to the ground. He glanced away, his ears straining as he heard footsteps.

Another man lunged at him and Peter stepped aside to avoid the heavy blow. He pulled at his sword and Rhindon danced through the man's chest, stabbing his directly in the heart, until the light went out of his eyes.

His cronies attacked warily and Peter took advantage of their hesitation wiping them in a single blow. It was necessary. To survive you had to kill the other.

It was the difference of life.

Be the predator or suffer as a prey.

It was the choice of lifetime.

As he wiped his sword clean, sheathing the ruby-hilted blade he looked up to hear Orieus alarmed voice over the shouts of his company of men.

He narrowed his eyes when he saw their shadowy figures begin to get clearer. Orieus had gone to scour the coast. Why would he return so early?

His heat contracted when he saw the alarm and fear in Orieus's usually unpredictable eyes and the furiously fast scurry of Mr. Tumnus beside him.

It was then he realized that they were holding somebody.

Somebody with pale skin and long black hair which cascaded down her limp form.

He moved forwards, his face impassive but his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil.

Isabela.

Isabela was the limp form curled up in Orieus's arms.

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Isabela opened her cat-like emerald green eyes to stare directly at the distressed face of a young female faun. Her astonishment was beyond great and she went pale before she emitted a great wail of anguish.

Or pleasure.

Isabela wasn't sure.

The tent flaps, scarlet red and pure gold, flew back as if a storm was coming and Peter stumbled in, his sword drawn and pointed in a varying direction.

Colours of relief flooded his face as he saw Isabela looking at him owlishly. He very nearly laughed at her annoyed expression. The faun was blushing brightly, her furry cheeks tomato red as she said shyly.

'I'm sorry, my lord. I was….. surprised.' She murmured.

'Shocked.' Isabela corrected, pushing back the locks flowing over her shoulder and sitting up.

Instantly a feeling of dizziness washed over her and she raised a hand dazedly to her head to steady herself.

'Grizelda, summon the healers please.'

'I'm alright.' Isabela said quietly. Peter through a venomous glare at her which very clearly said _shut up._

She did, nodding at the faun, Grizelda, who staggered out of the tent, waving her hands in distress.

'Honestly Peter, I'm fine. No need to worry.'

'Shut up, Isabela.' He told her sharply, running a hand through his hair.

'Don't tell me to shut up, Peter!' she shot back, her eyes burning with fury. 'I'm not some child to scorn.'

'You say that all the time, my dear lady.' Peter said silently, his tone cutting. 'But you very often behave very much like a child.'

'Oh and now what have I done, _Your Great Majesty_?' she asked sarcastically.

'Going away from camp during a war? Following a mere animal? Falling off a cliff? Bering stupid enough o wander away from a well protected area?' Peter said tauntingly, his tone bespeaking of his fury. 'What interesting toy did you see, Isabela?'

'Shut up Peter!' she said flushed, her cheeks burning with humiliation. 'You arrogant, idiotic, proud, beastly, unfaithful, egotistical little-'

'Enough, Isabela!' Peter said his voice quiet and striking. 'Do you know who you are talking to? I am the High King of Narnia! And I suggest you talk to me as such and remember my place as well as yours.'

Isabela did not answer and turned her face away, her eyes smouldering with the urge to cry.

'You see what I am talking about, Isabela? You do not know the different between dreams and reality. You do not realize how to address different people according to their status. You are a childish brat who I don't know how, fell into my hands.'

'If I remember correctly, Peter.' Isabela replied venomously. 'This childish brat fell into your hands at your own suggestion and own free will.'

'What free will?' Peter asked cruelly. 'Who takes a burden on their own free will?'

'You did!'

'I did for Aslan only. Don't make the mistake of thinking I actually wanted to marry _you_.'

'Peter, if you can't speak politely to me then I ask you to get out.'

'Tell me Isabela, did you marry me on your free will? Why? Because nobody would take a nuisance like you on their shoulders?'

'Peter, you leave me! Get out!' she told his furiously. 'Please, Peter! Leave me! Get out! Please! I can't stand the sight of you!'

She hit her head against her bandaged wrist. Her teeth sunk into her lip causing a thin drop of blood to appear on her bloodless lips.

Voices sounded around her, a humming buzz and then somebody gently held up her chin to look at her face. Edmund grinned dramatically.

'Isabela!' he mockingly scolded. 'How could you cause me so much distress? Tell me, young lady!'

Then he saw her trembling expression and his face changed to bewilderment.

'Lia, are you hurt?' he asked anxiously. Isabela did not reply and for one instant Edmund thought she had died.

Her green eyes seemed to look past him into a new world entirely. It was freaky and a shivering feeling spread through Edmund.

He shook her gently.

'Isabela are you alright?'

Isabela glanced at him and tried to smile, nodding lightly. But the smile died before it reached her lips and only a faint, ghostly echo remained.

'Of course, I'm alright Edmund.' She said bitterly. 'Why wouldn't I be? I'm perfectly fine.'

As always.

Lies.

Mr. Tumnus burst into the room, his face ashen and a bleeding scar stretched from his forehead to chin.

'King Edmund! The camp is under attack!'

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And… Voila, my dear readers! Another chapter done and finished! I hope you all like it! And please do not feel shy to tell me your suggestions! I thank all my beloved readers and especially my reviewers who keep encouraging me on! Thank you!

A. L. Potter


	23. The Night of the Moon

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C.S. Lewis does.

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Susan breathed in the fresh air of the sea from her balcony window. It smelled of lavender blooms and a salty scent that enthralled her senses. The light breeze ruffled her hair like an affectionate mother.

She yanked an exotically carved wooden brush through her luxuriant curls, brushing aside the thin bangs occasionally falling into her eyes.

It was good to be back.

Home.

Finally.

Her eyes darkened as she thought of the events of the previous days. She closed them, trying to block out the tainted thoughts.

_I was a fool…. Why? _

She had thought much as to why had she been so close minded, why had she blocked out the truth so eagerly? Had she been so blinded by Rabadash's charming manner and good looks?

She did not want to think about it.

Unbidden, the thoughts came back, crowding her mind until she had to release her frustration. What would she have done if the Lord Peridan and his army had not learned of her capture and had not come to rescue her? Would she have been forced to wed Rabadash?

Once she would have been ecstatic at the thought.

Now she was only frightened. And disgusted.

Her thoughts dwindled back to the stormy night.

'_My lady, are you alright?' Peridan asked concernedly, his expression fierce and his long hair pulled back into a small ponytail. _

_He started when he saw her dusty, face, cut across one cheek and her torn dress. _

'_By the Lion…' he cursed to himself and took her from one arm, pulling her up. _

'_I can walk, Peridan.' She said quietly. Peridan nodded sharply and pulled out her sword, gesturing to two of his men. _

'_What of the Prince? he asked, his tone disgusted. _

'_He is unconscious, my lord.' A faun spoke up, pushing back his bow and arrow. _

'_Well and good. It seems luck is on our side. Talk her Majesty to the ship and make all haste. I shall join you shortly.' _

'_Follow me, my lady.' The faun said accompanied by many others. Dazedly Susan realized that they were all a part of the Narnian army. Lucy must have sent them when Susan did not reply to her anxious letters._

_Dear, dear Lucy._

_It was by sheer dumb luck or by Aslan's will ( Susan preferred the second ) which had kept her alive that led to a clear path, devoid of violent confrontations. _

_Then she realized that it was nearly midnight. Of course the guards, drunken and confused from the party last night, were probably asleep. _

_Outside the night was stormy and dull and the sea was violently flooding the coast. She could see the struggling Narnians at the dock, furiously working to stable the rocking ship. _

_The rescue party ushered her aboard, hurrying her to the deck. Dimly she saw the sails crashing around. _

'_Hurry! Let go of the ropes! Let her start her journey! The Lion will protect u! Have faith in him!' A centaur, ancient and wise shouted to the others._

_Peridan, by now drenched, nodded swiftly and gestured to a few female fauns to help the tired, wounded Queen. _

_Minutes later, she was lying in a warm bed, dressed in fresh clothes, her locks dry and a woven velvet blanket covering her. _

'_Sleep, my lady. You need rest.' An old badger sitting beside her, comforted patting her hand. 'You have been through much.' _

'_No. The…. Narnians need my help.' She croaked but her voice was firm. _

'_Hush!' The badger scolded. 'You are too important, my lady! And all the people are here to lay down their lives for their beloved Gentle Queen.' _

_Susan did not have the strength to protest and soon fell into a nightmarish slumber. _

_She had woken up in Cair Paravel and had learned of the Calormen army coming after them. It had been a bizarre week and Lucy pleaded to go with Corin, Cor and Aravis. And finally Susan agreed._

_Almost after the army left, Susan received news from Peter, explaining to her where they were and what were they doing. Soon after she learned of their victory over Rabadash._

_Cor gleefully described to her how Rabadash had been turned into a donkey by Aslan. _

_Serves him right. She thought crossly, her worries turning back to her family in the north fighting the vicious giants…. _

Shivering suddenly she wrapped her bare arms around herself to keep outside the bad memories. Now her brothers and sister-in-law were away to war.

She hadn't even bothered to write to them about their welfare.

Heck, she hadn't even bothered to think about them!

_Why?_ She wondered. _Why? Oh Aslan let them be alive and safe! I beg you!_

She was sure she heard an answering lion's roar which caused her to stagger and nearly stumble back.

A sweet, thankful smile blossomed on her features.

_Yes, Aslan, would certainly watch over them. _

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Peter was worn and tired by the time he returned to the tent, his tunic dusty, his cheek slashed from a dagger, his boots clicking against the ground.

Slowly he turned around to glance at the sleeping form in the cot, his heart wrenching in guilt and regret.

He honestly hadn't meant to lose his temper with Isabela, his frustration and anger had gotten the best of him but he hadn't meant to direct it at her.

_I have serious anger management issues._

He went over to the bed, kneeling at the end and glancing at Isabela's face in the darkness. It was pale and shadowy but still stunning as that of a princess's.

She was very pretty, he could not deny that.

Her features were prominent and pale, her chin a widow's peak. For the first time since he had met her he carefully studied her features. Her cheekbones were reasonably high, her nose straight and long, and her complexion somewhere between tanned and fair which was pale against the night. Her ringlets were long and soft and sometimes curled and at other times dead straight. And her eyes were the most eye catching feature of all, a brighter green than dull oak leaves, a duller green that emeralds, darker than jade but lighter than a green garnet. They had a colour of their own chaperoned by unusually long eyelashes.

_Snap out of it, Peter! _He chastised himself. _You must have lost your mind in that battle._

It had been a fierce battle with the giants. Again. Except this time they were better equipped and actually had a plan to deal with them. They had managed to kill three and injure five others. It was a miserable score for a warrior but better than none. And worse he had lost almost five men in that clash.

He sighed and took off his tunic to cool himself down, his face inky white in the darkness as he glanced back at Isabela.

The remorse rose up again. He truly was sorry. He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

Isabela?

Himself?

Or Aslan?

He cringed as he thought of Aslan's disappointment. It hit him like a hammer, piercing him through and through. It hurt to let down Aslan when he had so much faith in him. And worse it hurt to hurt somebody close to him.

Not one somebody.

But _two _somebody.

He stooped down next to Isabela's head, fingering her hair softly.

'I'm sorry, my lady. I truly am sorry.' He said finally. 'I know it is useless. But…. I am _very, very_ sorry.'

'You always say that, Peter.' A small voice came up to him. Isabela.

He winced at the tone of her voice not because it was meant to hurt but because it was hurt itself.

Why did he always end up hurting Isabela?

'But I am sorry. And I apologize profusely for what I said to you. It was…. Wrong and unkind of me.'

'Not wrong or unkind.' Isabela said, a poignant smile flickering across her face. 'Just downright cruel, Peter. You say you are High King and I think that you deserve that because you have rightly earned the respect, love and admiration of your people. But you failed to earn mine. And so I cannot regard you as a High King. Just a spiteful and malicious person who takes every chance to hurt me.'

Peter opened his dry mouth to reply but the words wouldn't come.

'And you call yourself a knight of Aslan's! Upholder of peace and justice. Yes. Brave and noble. Yes. Humble and merciful. Yes. But polite, kind, chivalrous, courteous, gallant? No.'

'That's only your opinion.' Peter replied hotly.

'See?' Isabela asked. 'You think you are a perfect person to everyone. And everyone you see is dying for you! But not everyone is! Why can't you accept that to make a place in people's hearts you have to prove yourself to them?'

'Have you eaten your dinner, my lady?' Peter asked sharply.

'Don't change the subject, Peter!' Isabela replied flushed.

'Isabela! Have you or have you not?' He demanded.

Isabela did not reply.

'So you starve yourself to hurt yourself rather than me? Do you see my point? When I say you are childish or immature it means to tell you that you are far too naïve and trusting. You hurt yourself to hurt others. That's what I'm telling you. I never meant that as an insult. I say hurtful things to see how you react to them. And you react exactly the same way! Going out in the bitter cold in a bare nightdress? Wandering around the camp when everyone is asleep? Not eating proper food? You should learn to hurt others without hurting yourself. That's what I'm trying to tell you. That's why I hurt you.'

'You're a master at making excuses and pretences, Peter.' Isabela said sarcasm lining her voice.

'Why thank you, my lady.' Peter replied icily.

'Your welcome, my king.'

'You know, my lady, I believe that you and Ed should return to Cair Paravel.'

'What? No!' Isabela protested.

'Yes. The war is getting out of hand and we need more men and rations of food supplies and fresh drinking water. It would be best that you two are out of danger's way. Especially after your little… adventure.'

Isabela glared at him, her expression toned with anger.

'Yes that's right. Always me who is making the mistake, it is always me who is childish and naïve. And the noble High King is always there to correct me. I am very thankful to Aslan for giving me such _perfect _husband.'

'I am not perfect, Isabela.' He replied stiffly.

'Of course not! Silly of me!' Isabela said pretending to be surprised and shocked at her statement. 'Our more than perfect, High King.'

Peter glared at her and then shook his head.

'No more questions, Isabela.' He said firmly. 'You are returning back to Cair Paravel and that is final.'

'You cannot make me!' Isabela said to him.

'Watch me.' He replied, waving his hand. 'Remember you promised to obey my orders on this expedition.'

'I-' Isabela swallowed. She had made a promise. And she never went back on her word. She said unhappily. 'Alright. I'll go.'

'Don't think that I'm sending you because you are not a capable fighter, Isabela.' He told her as if reading her thoughts. 'You are beyond magnificent, a true warrior queen. Rarely have I seen, even my own men, fight as good as you do.'

'Thank you?' She said uncertainly glancing around the room._ Was that a true compliment or something to get on my good side?_

Peter laughed suddenly.

'It was a compliment, Isabela. And no,' he added. 'I cannot read minds; it is your expression that betrays you.'

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Isabela bolted through the cluster of slender poplar trees, nearly touching the pink sky, as they swayed from side to side with Edmund hot on her heels.

The horizon was alight with gold and the giant ball of fire rose lazily from its long slumber, sprawling its rays entwined with light orange and molten yellow, into the sky as twittering birds flew high over head.

'What's the matter, Ed?' she teased. 'Cannot catch up to me?'

'Not a chance!' Edmund yelled back, his horse, Philip, neighing in approval, his mane tossing from side to side as he pranced through the abundant forest. 'I'm a much better rider than you are, Lia! I'm just giving to he small satisfaction of making you proud that you are faster then me before I unleash my true power!'

And on the cue, he sped up, leaving behind a fine trail of dust. But Isabela was not one to let go of a challenge so easily and she urged her own angelic horse on, her hair flying wildly behind her.

Soon they were side by side, their paths criss-crossing in an effort to cross the other. Finally Edmund called.

'Slow down, Lia. The others are having trouble keeping up.'

Flushed and breathing hard she skidded to a stop, her cheeks coloured completely from exhaustion and laughing. She smiled.

'So I win, my lord?' she asked playfully. Edmund grinned wickedly.

'Who gave you that false notion, my queen? Surely you could not be that foolish as to actually believe that!'

'Oh, you fly so high, Edmund!' She said exasperated.

'Thank you, thank you for that beautiful compliment, my lady.' He said dramatically flourishing his sword. 'My heart dances upon hearing such pleasing words from you my lady!'

She rolled her eyes, glancing around for the rest of the Narnian party.

'Where are they?'

As if on the cue the Narnians came up, breathing hard from exhaustion.

'Our Just King and High Queen do like riding much.' A young faun breathed, clutching its short legs to keep them from shaking. 'And both are excellent riders I must say.'

'Thank you, Gahen.' Edmund said, his eyes twinkling. 'Shall we move on?'

'Not so fast, my young boy.' A new voice drawled followed by several leers from the shadowy darkness of the forest which lay ahead despite the rising sun. Several of the Narnians pulled out their weapons, the two centaur aiming their bows at the point from where the voices came from and the others picking up stray branches, small daggers and even acorns.

'No!' Isabela said sharply. She turned back to the unknown person. 'We come in peace, people of the wood. We are crossing the Western Wood to reach the Narnian capital of Cair Paravel on an important mission. And we have the approval of King Edmund the Just, who governs over this area.'

There was no answer and then after a few murmurings came a nasal voice.

'It matters not who you are, girl. All that matters is that you are not one of ours and thus are enemies. Surrender peacefully and you shall be killed mercifully. Fail to do so and the consequences will be very…._severe._'

'What a forgiving, generous offer.' Edmund commented sarcastically.

'Don't be smart, boy!' the voice growled. 'You cannot see us but we can see you and we have more weapons than you could possibly imagine.'

Gahen opened his mouth to reply and Isabela could see he was about to reveal their identities and she shushed him with a wave of her hand, throwing all of them a fierce look.

It was a signal: _No information. None at all_

'You leave us no choice.' the voice said mockingly regretful_._

'Men, attack them! Let no one live for crossing our territory! We will show these people yet who is the King of the Forest.'

'Not king, queen.' Said a musical voice. 'And then it is convenient that I am here, is it not?'

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Another chapter done! We are indeed steadily progressing! Reviews please!

A. L. Potter


	24. Winter Nights Bite

Disclaimer: I do not the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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Isabela glanced up her face stunned and a disbelieving expression flitting across her worn face.

'Asha.' She whispered. 'What happened to you?'

Asha smiled eerily, her face hungry and somehow barbaric in its beauty. The frightening smile revealed her thinly carved, long fangs extending from her gums to her lips. Her face was pale and white and somehow terrifying in its lost beauty. She was no longer the old Asha. Not from her face nor from the low purring voice that emitted from her.

'Nothing at all, Lia. In fact a very good thing just happened. I was made Queen of the Western Wood.'

'How come this escaped the knowledge of King Edmund who had complete authority over this forest?' Isabela demanded.

'Ah yes your brother-in-law, I believe.' There were collective gasps of surprise and astonishment. Asha glanced at her slyly. 'Maybe he did not feel to share this news with you. After all nobody had to share everything with anybody. And perhaps he was not aware of your and mine _acquaintance_.'

'Or perhaps he was not informed of this event.' Edmund cut in, his voice uneasy and he exchanged a sharp glance with Isabela.

Asha glanced at him through her veiled eyes, hissing lightly.

'King Edmund?'

There was more muttering, louder and more pronounced and Isabela felt her heartbeat increase dramatically.

'Yes indeed.' The aged centaur said his voice low and wise and somehow penetrating all defences. 'It is King Edmund the Just accompanied by his sister-in-law High Queen Isabela. I do hope you know of them?'

'Of course we do!' A member of Asha's party shot back. He was a short creature barely reaching Isabela's knee with a curly beard and folds upon folds of skin and pointed ears.

Isabela wasn't quite sure if he was an insect or some mythical creature.

She did not care.

'If you do not mind, Queen Asha, now that you have fully interrogated us may we proceed on our journey?'

'Hold it! Her Majesty Queen Asha has no right to let you go according to the Treaty of the Western Wood. You have crossed _our _boundary not hers and thus it is we who have the right to tell you whether you are free to go or do you have to stay!'

'Beg pardon?' Alvin asked insulted, puffing his chest.

'Well, are we free to go?' Isabela asked impatiently. The creature looked at her shrewdly.

'Not yet! We have to take you back to master for your trial before you can go.'

'There will no need for that, Dirk.' Asha told him, fury lacing her voice. 'As Queen I have right over your master and you and I say that these people be let on their journey!'

'Well break your own laws then.' Dirk sneered. Asha clenched her jaw.

'Well can I at least give them a proper home to stay. Will your master allow them to stay in my abode until the trial?' she asked. Dirk pretended to think.

'I suppose that won't be a problem…' he said finally. 'If, if you swear in blood to not let them escape.'

'Of course.' Asha said frowning deeply. 'And you'd better stay within your limits, Dirk. You are getting increasingly frank and I do not appreciate that! Now away with you and your minions!'

Dirk snarled angrily and hauled up his heavy looking bow from his shoulder.

'Make us.'

'I will not stand your rudeness!' Asha hissed. 'Now go!'

Muttering under their breaths and shooting venomous glares dripping with frostiness the creatures shot away, their hairy heads disappearing in the darkness of the trees. Asha threw back her long mane of chestnut curls and smiled at the Narnian party.

'Come with us.'

'I don't think so, Asha.' Isabela said. 'We are on an important journey and we don't want to pause now.'

Edmund nodded.

'We thank you for your offer, Lady Asha but we are in hurry.'

Asha's expression was dangerous.

'I said, you are to come with us. It will do no harm to you. Besides,' she smiled slyly. 'I believe you are out of supplies and you could do with a good meal.'

Edmund glanced at Isabela, his gaze sharp and calculating.

'It will do no harm.' He said finally, gesturing for Alvin and a centaur to come forward. He leaned over Philip, his mane glistening and whispered lightly in their ears. They nodded and stepped back talking silently to the others.

'You should not whisper when there are other people around.' Asha said coolly.

'Of course, my lady.' Edmund said lightly. 'I simply instructed my fellows to go onward on their journey while I remain here, accompanying the High Queen.'

Isabela bit her lip to keep from protesting because she saw the glint of determination in Edmund's eyes.

Asha's face was a pale colour, white from utter fury and anger. In a barely controlled voice she said.

'Very well then. Come.'

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'It is not polite to sit quietly Lia.'

'Is staying silent, a crime now too?' Isabela asked her sarcastically, glaring directly at the stunning woman sitting cross legged in front of her. 'Or has Her Majesty banned it too?'

Asha laughed her voice high.

'You have changed Lia! Why before you came on your first visit to Narnia you were such a happy go lucky girl.'

'And now?'

'Now you are silent and sharp and somehow….. meaner, not in a bad way.' Asha assured her. 'You are still the kind, gracious Isabela but now you are not as innocent.'

'Yes.' Isabela agreed quietly. 'I do agree with you. Innocence, I have long lost. That was a long time ago. After the deaths of my family.'

'Ah… I am sorry about that.'

'You're late in offering your apologies.' Isabela told her, sitting back and leaning against the wide pillar holding up the tent in the middle of the forest. It was made of purple velvet, softer than fur, and embroidered with exquisite silvery threads made by caterpillars. Plump cushions lined the edge and it was there that Asha ushered her to.

Calling a raven which croaked out twice she instructed the gathering servants to prepare tea and biscuits for the guests.

'There shall be no need for that.' Isabela said. 'We intend to leave soon.'

'I can hardly send you away without giving you proper hospitality.' Asha smiled sweetly and rang a silvery bell for another servant dwarf.

'What do you want, Asha?' Isabela asked bluntly as soon as the dwarf had hastily exited the tent. 'Obviously you want something desperately, desperately enough to bid your own soul.'

Asha inclined her head in a quick dipping movement.

'You know me well.' She leaned back, breathing deeply in the scent of the herbal tea. 'Perhaps it comes from knowing me for ten years.'

'And yet, I feel as if I do not know you at all.' Isabela put in, her voice cold. Asha laughed.

'Time changes people, Lia. You know that as well as I do.'

'It is people who allow time to change them, not time which forces them to change. Can anybody force anybody to change in today's world? I don't think so.'

'You haven't seen all the world yet, Lia.' Asha said oddly gentle. 'When you live as I have then you will realize the truth of the world.'

'Why don't we discuss what you want to discuss rather than you trying to indirectly discuss your true objectives of this meeting with me, Asha?' Isabela asked, pushing back her long ringlets of black waterfall.

'Always the impatient one.'

'Always the sly one.'

'I was never sly nor will I ever be sly.' Asha said seriously. 'I am rather..._observant _and have quick, sharp reflexes.'

'That is a more positive way to say it.' Isabela muttered. 'It makes no difference.'

'It makes all the difference in the world.'

'Will you just tell me what you have to say?' Isabela asked losing her cool indifference. 'Better than wasting your time as well as mine.'

Asha drew back and studied her for a long time. The stare was uncomfortably familiar, sparking up a memory deep within her mind.

'Very well. I heard you were fighting the giants in the north.'

'You heard correct.'

'Of course I heard correct.' Asha said scornfully. 'My news is most reliable.'

'Don't you mean your spies?' Isabela corrected. She got a dark glare in response.

'I offer you an alliance of sorts. You cannot deal with this threat alone. Humans are vulnerable to the giants and can be easily defeated. But dwarves, elves, nymphs and other creatures of the wood put up a great match for them.'

'What are you offering?'

'Me?' Asha feigned surprise. 'I am offering you the assistance of my army. They are well trained in the arts of combat and are much better than your _Narnian _soldiers! They will help you defeat the giants and restore peace.'

'And what do you want in return?'

'Its simple. I want your help to ensure my complete authority over the Western Wood under King Edmund of course.' She added.

A knowing smile flickered across Isabela's face and she laughed.

'I see, you have made some serious political opponents have you not? Who is it?'

Asha stiffened and hissed angrily.

'Do you want my help or do you not?'

Isabela made her face impassive and completely blank. She inclined forwards, her hair falling down and covering her face like a dark veil but her green eyes glowed dangerously like a dragon's glittering emerald scales.

'You do know that my father was good friends with the furies?'

All the colour drained from Asha's face.

'You cannot be serious.' She spluttered. 'And they are not known as furies anymore. Nowadays they are called ulfs.'

Isabela dismissed it with a wave of her slender hand.

'I can always support your rivals in this battle.'

'Are you so desperate so as to actually _threaten_ me? What? Have you been given a warrant or some death trap that you are willing to go to any extent to win political support?'

'Yes. Yes. And yes. Yes to all three questions.'

'Technically there were only two.'

'You cannot win the alliance of the ulfs and their trust so easily. It takes years upon years, even centuries, to simply create a bond of harmony with them.'

'But you forget the point, Asha.' She smiled lightly, her voice dripping with honey but mixed with a serpent's venom. 'I'd say I do not need your help.'

Asha did not answer. For a long time she stared straight at Isabela, looking into her eyes.

There was an impregnable silence and no sound could penetrate the glares fixed between the two woman.

'You are not the same Lia.'

Isabela nodded a triumphant smile on her face before she sprang to her feet but as she turned back from the flaps of the tent, her eyes met Asha's for the briefest of the second. There was sadness lurking in them.

'And you are not the Asha I knew. Not anymore.'

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'Come on Ed. We are leaving.'

'Thank Aslan. The food was simply horrible.' He muttered as he swung his lithe form onto Philip in one swift motion. 'Raw leaves boiled in papaya seeds and watermelon meat. Such a disgusting dinner.'

'They are plant creatures,' Isabela said amused. 'They live off natural spices and food. They believe it will bring them immortality and strength.'

'But raw leaves?' Edmund complained, his face disgusted. 'Yck.'

Isabela laughed as they sped on through the thicket of bushes and branches clawing at their faces.

'What did Asha want?' Edmund asked carefully, his voice thin and quiet.

'She wanted to force me to ask for her help. To make an alliance.'

'Why?'

'Because she is facing extreme opposition, I believe. Many people did not want her to become queen because of some….. family matters'

'Family matters?' Edmund asked raising his delicate eyebrows.

'Asha was not on good terms with her mother, the previous late Queen of the Western Wood.'

'Queen Sasha?' Edmund asked surprised. 'But she was such a kind and gracious lady, a miraculous warrior. She seemed to shine like a star on her throne and in the battlefield.'

Isabela nodded smiling wistfully.

'She was almost like a second mother to me. But Asha and her…. They did not get along at all… They had personalities that clashed like lightening and thunder fighting for the sky. Asha's father was…. Against her mother and they fought fiercely until he left in the bitter violence of a summer storm. He never came back. Asha, who was closer to him than anyone, was heartbroken and she blamed her mother for forcing her father to leave. Her mother, tiring of her insolence and reckless blames, punished her severely and this only led to their relationship deteriorated more. Finally Queen Sasha banished Asha from her court because of Asha causing rebellions to grow up throughout the woods against her. Asha was furious and left her mother. They never met again, for hundreds of years they remained apart. And after the Queen's death it was only fitting that her greatest supporter and almost son become the King. But Asha was not going to let her power go away that easily. Now….. they are fighting each other for the throne.'

'So unrest here and unrest in the north.' Edmund said darkly. 'Obviously they have one common reason behind it.'

'Asha or her rival?' Isabela asked.

'Not sure. Both are lethal and vicious and willing to sacrifice anything for the throne.'

Isabela chewed her lip thoughtfully. She was still not quite sure what had happened to Asha to change her so dramatically.

This Asha was not the Asha she had known.

But on the other hand her rival, Galvin, was also a jerk, cold and ruthless and a changed man, but one with honour and sometimes even honesty. And he had been loyal to the queen.

'Anyways, what did you say to her in answer to her _generous _offer?' Edmund asked.

'I told her that if I wanted support I could easily get it from the ulfs and furthermore Narnia does not need support from her.'

'You were ruthless, weren't you?'

'I wouldn't call it ruthless, rather passionate and zealous.'

'Sure.' Edmund snorted. 'Whatever you say, Lia.'

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Peter gritted his teeth, his cape flying around in the ferocious wind as it shrieked and moaned, groaning and screaming. His ears were sore and his cheek white from cold and the high wind.

Behind him he could hear the echoes of the battle, swords howling, arrows whizzing and friends and foes alike screaming for help. Blood splattered the ground and torn patches of clothing lay everywhere. It was a horrifying scene and Peter thanked his lucky stars that he had refused to eat dinner before going out.

He swung Rhindon around and lunged forward ending his enemy's clumsy movements.

A new warrior.

Obviously he had no experience in combat yet.

He slumped to his feet, blood gurgling from his open mouth as he breathed his last. Peter was already moving on. He could not allow himself to feel pity and exhibit his weakness now.

He slashed and hacked him way through until he stood surrounded by either the dead or the dying. His soldiers crowded around him and he felt a sense of triumph.

The entire enemy was dead.

All killed.

No survivors.

What a victory for them!

He knew that the Narnians felt it too. For the first time since the last three weeks happiness lit up their faces and a strong desire for revenge for their fallen comrades. Orieus came up to him, his helmet scratched in various places and he accompanied Peter to the headquarters flanked by Lord Peridan, exhausted but grinning and other Narnian lords and the major commanders.

They crowded around the large table, all ready to fight further. Now they had a chance

_Thank you, Aslan._ Peter thought._ For giving us hope and the will to keep fighting and for granting us this victory. _

'My king, do we now proceed to the occupied villages?' Peridan asked, leaning against the table top. 'I think it would be the best. To go out and attack rather than waiting to be attacked.'

'I agree with Peridan, King Peter.' Adrian agreed. 'It is our best chance.'

Peter nodded.

'What of the reinforcements?' He turned to Mr. Tumnus.

'My lord I was told that the Narnian party have reached Cair Paravel but without King Edmund and High Queen Lia. But Alvin, the squirrel, assured me that we had nothing to worry. Queen Susan and Queen Lucy have instructed the soldiers what to do. They left a few days ago.'

'Which means that they will reach by tomorrow evening.' Orieus finished. 'They can join us in the fighting.'

Peter nodded again, his azure eyes scanning the map laid out before him. His gaze dropped on Cern, a deserted village closer to the camp than the others.

'Then by tomorrow evening we will free Cern of its occupation.' He said silently. 'Prepare yourselves.'

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'My lady, my lady! My lady Susan! My queen!' A faun scampered across the balcony to the slender figure standing along the railing leaning against it.

Susan looked up, hr face paling and her heart thumping loudly. _Why, it must be about Peter! Or Edmund and Lia! _

'What is it?' she asked calmly, smoothing out her long embroidered dress. A curious Lucy wandered in, her face eager and inquisitive, the red curls flowing fluffily around her innocent face.

'My lady, you must see this!' He said in between panting breaths, leaning down, struggling to talk properly. 'Come quickly, my queens!'

Her heart in her throat Susan stepped out to the main doors, her eyes narrowing. Lucy followed, hot on her trail, her nightgown flying behind her. Suddenly she stopped, her face stunned and Lucy nearly bumped into her.

_Dear Aslan…_

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And done! I am terribly sorry for keeping you all waiting but I had a lot to do! Anyways enjoy! And please do leave your comments, thoughts and ideas and of course your wonderful suggestions which always help me to improve and write on!

A. L. Potter


	25. The Moment of Truth

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

**Author's Note:** I know what you are thinking: Finally! And so I won't keep you from this chapter by my apologies and excuses. Without any ado….. The next chapter!

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Relief flooded her grasping her completely; an expression of happiness crossed her face. Behind her Lucy shrieked and dove out, her wild mane, coloured auburn, shooting behind her, tamed down by Edmund's hands as he twirled her around in his arms.

Holding up her skirts Susan ran after her, her arms instinctively going out to grasp her white sister-in-law who stumbled back from the force. However she relaxed almost immediately, a smile forming on her tired face. Susan was on the verge of tears and Isabela awkwardly patted her back, hugging her lightly.

She and Lucy exchanged places and Edmund found himself receiving the end of a dozen or so rib-crushing hugs and kisses on the cheek from his elder sister.

Heat flooded his cheeks and he pulled himself out of her embrace, scowling but his expression betrayed him.

'You're back! Oh we were so worried!' Lucy said brightly, her arms grasping Isabela's neck.

The Narnians crowded around them happiness oozing out of their expressions. They took turns to embrace their beloved monarchs before ushering them away Susan dragged both of them inside chastising them whole heartedly.

Once inside she called the servants to arrange for a warm bath and fresh clothes for them. Hands on her hips she turned to face Edmund who visibly cowered under her angry glare.

'And you Edmund Pevensie! Where were you? Why didn't you bother to inform us? Do you have no common sense as to inform your worried sisters and people that you are safe?'

'But Su-' Edmund protested. A pale hand reached out to thump him on the head. 'Ow! Su, you are a devil.'

'Don't make me give you plenty of bruises to make it seem that you took on a giant single handed.' Susan threatened, her deep blue eyes glittering dangerously.

'You would do that?' Edmund asked weakly, his face pale. 'You wouldn't would you?'

Susan gave him one of her venomous looks. And then her shadow sprung up and she whirled around to face Isabela.

'And you Lia! Why didn't _you _tell us where you were?'

'That's because we could not. We sent the soldiers to inform you of our well being. It was all we could do. And besides-' she added carefully. 'We were only in the Western Woods, Edmund's domain, no where else.'

For one instant Susan stared at her and then she nodded impassively, her nose wrinkling up.

'You smell disgusting.'

'Well we did come back from war.' Edmund pointed out, grumbling lightly. Susan glared at him pointedly but said nothing morel.

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_Dearest Peter (I won't bother with the titles so don't expect them),_

_I write to you in the hope that you are well. (In case you are wondering what is up with the previous line, Susan made me write that). Anyways moving on I was told (more like ordered) by our lovely elder sister (younger in your case) to tell you that your beloved wife (you must be worried) and I (your darling, dashing brother) have reached Cair Paravel safely. Though we did face some small _occupations _on the way back which not surprisingly alarmed out sister, Susan (is that a surprise?), we reached Cair Paravel safely (all because of me). Anyways we are back and safe and sound. When you return we shall give you a full detailed account of our adventure filled journey back home. I pray that your ventures will be successful (hopefully) and that you will soon return to us._

_With love (oh don't please yourself)_

_Edmund the Just, King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Duke of Lantern Waste, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Table and Count of the Western March _

Peter smiled his brooding momentarily paused by the letter. _Count on Ed to make your mood better. _

His eyes scanned the letter again, taking in each and every detail. He sorely missed his family and Narnia. A small smile curved at his lips as he read again and again but then a frown crinkled up his forehead.

_Why did Ed and Isabela stop in the Western Woods? What had been so important? _

He gazed around thoughtfully. For once he was glad that Susan had scolded him and Isabela for their more than foolish ventures.

A vague smile flickered over his face as he thought about how soon they would return home. The war was almost over. They had captured some of the major towns and villages besieged by the invaders and only one was left. After that…. He would be home.

Peter raised his tired, aching body before flopping down on the makeshift bed which was in reality around six layers of blankets. He closed his eyes but the thoughts would not go away. The guilt, the regret. He mentally scolded himself.

What use was guilt now?

The damage had already been done and he was sure that Isabela would never forgive him. Never…. He flinched lightly. He had never truly meant to hurt her in any way. Yes she had been unwanted but now she was a constant part of his life like Susan, Edmund and Lucy and he would willingly give his life for her if the need arose.

But still…. He could not forgive himself for the way he had treated her. He had been beyond cruel, even barbaric. But deep inside him, a part of him explained to him why he had been so rude to her.

It had been the mental fatigue, the psychological pain weaving him down, the tiredness. He would never admit it, his pride was too strong, but he was sick of the war and wished only for it to end. He had observed the cruelties of war far more than Isabela had and it was obvious that, for all her brave words and talents in combat, she was battered. The healers had insisted that she leave that battle field. She had lost too much blood, they said.

He had known full well that Isabela would never leave if he simply asked her to. Only anger at him and the pain that he caused her would force her to leave. She was too emotional, he knew and that was her greatest weakness. He would have had to exploit that weakness in order to make her leave.

Tossing around feverishly, he rubbed his temples to soothe the blazing headache. His remorse would not allow him respite, his regret would not leave him in peace, his guilt taunted him till he felt he would burst.

_Oh Isabela…. forgive me….. please….._

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Heidi slipped inside the castle, her stride slinky and silent and thus unnoticed. Tears threatened to weave down her face and with great effort she pushed them back. But still a wretched sob escaped her ringing around the hall.

Frightened and half wild she looked up afraid the guards would have heard. By some miracle no one came and relaxing ever so slightly she continued her journey to her room.

Her latest meeting with Vladimar had been far from successful. He had been cool, quiet and angry…..furious….. Heidi could feel the how the first essence of fear trickled down her spine when she caught sight of his murderous face. If looks could kill, she would have been lying dead on the floor.

They had met on the outskirts of the town. The villagers would have noticed her if they had met within. And Vladimar had seemed far from happy. She had seen how bruised and bloodied his face was and a long, horrifying gash ran down his cheek. From that bloody, high king… he had said angrily.

When she had meekly inquired about how he fared during the battle he had thrown his glass of wine at her and the wine had soaked her entire gown, though mercifully the glass had banged against the wall over her head. She knew he was not happy with her…. Not happy at all….

She fled to her room and just as she was turning aground the corner she bumped into a slender, small figure.

With a small cry she fell to the floor, her palm outstretched. The figure stepped into moonlight and immediately asked concernedly about Heidi's welfare.

Heidi looked up and for an instant she was speechless. The girl standing in front of her looked like a porcelain doll, so pretty she was. Her long, long hair was curled up into a coiffure at the back of her head and her were the envy of all women. Jealously sparked up within her. It was as if somebody had placed glittering, emeralds in her orbs, which changed shade with each angle of her well shaped chin. Her cheekbones were high but not much defined and her features were delicate and stunning.

Suddenly it struck her who this girl cold possibly be. High Queen Isabela… Fear ran through her and Isabela must have seen that for she asked kindly whether Heidi was hurt.

Heidi shook her head feeling embarrassed. It was obvious that Isabela was much younger than she but still she was more mature and composed. Abruptly it seemed clear to her how this young girl could be a queen and a great warrior if the rumours were true.

'I am fine, my lady.'

'I am afraid I haven't seen you here before. Who are you?' Isabela enquired. 'You know me but I do not know you.'

'Everybody knows you, my lady.' Heidi curtsied, standing up straight. 'I am Heidi.'

'What a beautiful name.'

'Thank you, my lady.' Heidi replied uncertainly.

So this was the person she had to destroy according to Vladimar if she wanted to destroy the High King. This young, well mannered, beautiful girl? Why her?

'I am very sorry, my lady.' She said abruptly. Isabela laughed.

'Oh no , the fault is all mine. I apologize.'

'It is not for bumping into you, my lady. It is for something else. Though I apologize for that too'

'Oh? If Isabela was bewildered she did not show it at all. Instead she smiled politely though not too greatly. She maintained her grace and status.

'I have some business to do. I hope you can find your way to your room, Heidi.'

'Yes, my lady. Thank you for your concern.'

Isabela hurried away. Heidi stared after her.

She could not believe it.

That young girl?

That was the treat to Vladimar?

She wondered how easy that could be. It would be very, very easy. For the first time that night she smiled. And it was a smile her father would have been proud of….

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Isabela stared hollowly at the plate put out before her laden with delicious smelling – and no doubt delicious tasting – colourful food. The aroma waved through the air to her and she inhaled contently. Beside her Edmund was already diving into his plate which was literally flooded with scrambled eggs, light roasted chicken, toast and heavy bacon. When he raised his head to grin at her, his cheeks were smeared with the egg yolk.

Lucy giggled poking him in the ribs and Edmund in response tugged one of her auburn, glowing braids.

'Edmund Pevensie!' Susan told him, her eyes flashing. 'Have you no manners? That is just pure disgusting!'

'Disgusting is my middle name, Su. You should know that by now.' He mock admonished, waving his fork at her.

'I should tell the servants not to set your side of the table. It is useless to do so.'

Edmund shrugged, grinning mischievously.

'You're probably right. What useless things these forks, knives and spoons are.'

Regardless of her fatigue, Isabela felt a smile tug at her lips as she too began eating her breakfast. She stretched her aching legs ahead of her, wincing ever so slightly when she felt a muscle pull just as a young centaur hurried into the room, his face alight.

'My lord Edmund!' Edmund looked up not even bothering to wipe his face. Apparently the Narnians were by now used to their monarchs strange, erratic behaviour. 'A letter from the High King.'

Isabela felt a shift in the relaxed atmosphere around the table. Susan sat up, her long hair pulled back into a graceful bun wobbling a little. Lucy's face lightened up and her eyes practically shone as she looked eagerly over Edmund's shoulder to read the letter. Edmund, however, rolled his eyes.

'Typical. He has to send me a letter when I am in the middle of a very important business for the goodness of the land. He always did that.'

Susan scowled at him.

'Important business?' she repeated sarcastically. 'For the goodness of the land? Ha!'

'Well my health is very, very essential in the governing of Narnia. Have some sense Susan!'

Her brows came together in a furious glare as she snatched the letter from beside him and ripped in open. Isabela feared that in her fury she would rip the _letter_ instead of the envelope surrounding him.

She opened it and her blue eyes scanned the letter.

'He's alright!' She announced. 'And they have almost established peace in all districts but one.'

'Read it aloud, Su.' Lucy told her. Susan looked up and gestured for her to take the letter.

Lucy took it quickly and her merry eyes shifted from line to line as if absorbing each and every word. A small, melancholic smile came onto her lips and she wordlessly passed the letter to Isabela.

Her anger at Peter was great, her fury even greater and her urge to hit him, the greatest. Her pride would not allow her to read the letter or even touch it. And she did not. Silently she kept on eating her food.

'Won't you read the letter, Isabela?' Susan asked curiously.

'I know he is alive and well and that the Narnians are successful. There is nothing more to know.' Isabela all but snapped. Immediately she regretted it but Susan said nothing.

'But-' Lucy began. 'You should...'

'Leave her be, Lu.' Susan said. Her tone was stern but gentle. 'It is for her to read the letter and if she does not wish to do so why should we force her?'

Lucy bit her lip as if she wanted to say something but was unwilling to say it. Finally she burst out.

'But don't you want to know about his condition?'

'I already know about his condition.' Isabela replied hoping Lucy would drop the conversation.

'But aren't you concerned about him?' She asked her bewilderment childish and innocent.

'Just about as much as he is about me.' She said stiffly, sweeping back her hair and rising. 'Please excuse me.'

Just as she turned she thought she saw written on the parchment, in Peter's clear, cursive writing, her own name. But then it disappeared and she strode out, her eyes pricking dangerously when she heard Edmund say.

'Love sucks, doesn't it?'

'You have no idea.' Susan agreed her voice impassive.

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Peter gasped as he felt the enemy's blade pierce his side and for an instant he was unable to move. That gave his enemy all the advantage. As he advanced grinning his sword moving in a dark arch over his head, Peter felt a cold, freezing fear. But his years as a warrior and a knight came rushing back to him and he pushed forward with all his strength, managing to stumble against a tree planted in the middle of nowhere.

Using the hanging branch as a support he raised himself and plunged blindly with Rhindon trying to get some aim, any aim. Apparently his aim in confusion was almost as good as it was when he was attentive and he felt his enemy scream as a weight sagged against him.

It was then that his bearings came back to him. He grabbed the man by his collar and shook him. Hard.

'Who is your leader? Where is he? What is his name?' He snarled. Fear shone upright on the man's face and he struggled to breathe. Finally he stuttered out.

'Vladimar. His name is Vladimar.'

'Where is he?'

'I…I do …..not…..not…..know.'

'Liar!'

Peter could see the life exiting the man's body. He knew he had no more than a few precious seconds to ask about the whereabouts of their leader.

'Tell me. Hurry!'

The man gasped as blood dripped from one side of his mouth but said nothing. But Peter saw his eyes flicker towards the large mansion, towering over the town. And then…..nothing….. The man was dead.

Orieus rushed to his side, his pointed eyes barely visible under the cover of the night and of the silver helmet that he wore.

'Are you injured, my liege?'

'I'm alright.' Peter managed to say through gritted teeth and he raised himself to his full height. He would not back down now. No. Not on his own life. 'Go! You must free all the villagers.'

'But where are you going, my lord?'

'To kill the man who started this, who hurt so many of ours.'

Orieus nodded gravely.

'May Aslan be with you.'

'And you.'

He managed to reply despite the bitter laugh that rose up. Aslan had surely abandoned him now. After all he had said and done to Isabela. He could not remember how many times he had made the promise with Aslan to be kind to Isabela, to cherish her, to love her and how many times had he broken it.

He stumbled off to the high mansion of the village located behind the rumbling town. On the way he stopped to help the fallen Narnians, comfort the dying and help those in desperate need of help.

In all eyes he saw the same plea, the same request. _Help us, my lord. Take away the pain, my liege. Help me._

At the back of his mind he heard a very familiar voice say quietly.

'You are the strong one, Peter. You always were.'

Due to the countless distractions it took him a long time to reach the mansion. It was tall and impression and Peter had to give credit to the people who had made it. It must have taken a great deal of time and energy to do it. His intelligent eyes scanned it. It was also an excellent hideout. The walls were solid and enclosing and made of the hardest cement. A well- protected fortress. Peter burst through the broken door, trying to keep an eye everywhere around him. His sword was raised to defend himself from any attack and his eyes and ears were alert as an eagle's.

He swept from one room to the other, keeping as silent as possible.

By the time he had taken a complete round of first floor his feet were aching. Despair filled him. He would never manage to find the Vladimar person if this continued.

Suddenly the lights went out and Peter spun around his sword raised to block any attack. A serpentine voice said from behind him.

'You must be the High King of Narnia, Peter I believe.'

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And… Another chapter done! I apologize greatly for keeping my reader's waiting and hopefully the next chapter will be updated very soon. And please do not hesitate to give me your comments and feedbacks, criticisms, suggestions and queries which I'd greatly appreciate!

A. L. Potter


	26. Rhindon

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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The smirk on Vladimar's face was snaky, sly and malicious. He tilted his body and inclined his head. His eyes were like grape wine in the faint light, glittering like a reptile's.

Peter felt his muscles tense, his body leaning forwards as if already anticipating a hard fight. He angled his sword lightly, studying Vladimar intently. For a brief moment they both scrutinized each other, taking in each other's weaknesses and strengths.

Then suddenly without warning Vladimar flung himself forwards, a double sided sword appearing out of no where, and throwing itself against Rhindon. Peter raised his sword to block the attack and attacked back, the blade spreading out in a deathly, deadly sweep, narrowly missing Vladimar who reared back like a fire confronting water.

Peter did not hesitate and doubled his attack. Vladimar however slinked back and in a blur came up from behind Peter. Stunned and momentarily astonished Peter spun around lunging out with his sword. Vladimar saw his chance and jumped up attacking from above.

Peter raised his head and jumped out of the way landing on his side, his injured side throbbing painfully. Gritting his teeth, he leaped to his feet and bounced back like a quick hare as Vladimar advanced like a great serpent, his eyes flashing with hate. Peter ducked as he spun his two sided blade and jabbed harshly against his legs. Vladimar howled and clutched his leg, leaning over.

In an instant he recovered and raised his head, snarling like a rabid dog and swinging his deadly weapon from side to side, slashing cuts along the invisible air. Peter bounded back avoiding each and every blow. He smiled inside, satisfied. An angry enemy left many undefended weaknesses. He spun around and around, his lean, well muscled body graceful in its stealth.

Vladimar howled again. This time not in pain but in utter fury and threw the blade forwards almost as if it was spear. Peter had not anticipated this. And with amazing speed it sliced across his shoulder. Peter fell back. Without blinking an eye he lunged forwards, following the acute angle of his sword as it speared its way through Vladimar's upper arm.

But Vladimar himself was well trained and would not lose easily. He spun around, ducking copying Peter's previous move and wove his blade. Peter narrowed his eyes as he retreated back until he felt his back touch the wall behind him.

A hazardous feeling shot through him as he realized he was cornered. _Aslan help me._

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'Edmund? Are you here?'

Isabela gently opened the door leading to Edmund's study and stepped in, glancing around, her emerald orbs seeking him. The study was large and spacious; it was well decorated but simple. The high ceiling was painted crimson red and the walls had a soft golden glow to them which was emphasized with the elegant lamps that hung at occasional distances on the wall. The polished furniture reflected the light, the desk, the chairs, the shelves all made of the darkest wood.

It was filled with books whose titles Edmund had probably never bothered to read. Edmund, himself, was no where to be seen. Isabela stepped forward hesitatingly and lightly fingered the books, her eyes taking in each and every detail.

The desk was strewn with papers, pens and quills. Black and blue ink was splattered in small dots on different parchments and Isabela caught a glimpse of Edmund's writing. And Peter's.

She stared at it surprised. Then she saw it was the letter they had received that morning. Her expression hardened and she turned away to leave but curiosity got the best of her. Isabela… She remembered that she had seen her own name on the letter. Had Peter mentioned her to Edmund? What had he wanted to say? Her feet stilled and she turned back, her hand automatically shooting out to grab the letter.

It was folded and creased and Isabela smoothed it open so as to make the words visible. She scanned the letter for her own name, the one she had seen that very morning. Ah, there it was.

_We are just preparing to leave for the last village, Dryam, I believe. Pray that we achieve victory. It is going to be a hard fight and we are still short on soldiers. I almost wish that Isabela were here. Her prowess on the battlefield is most admirable. Aslan himself praised her skills as a warrior. I miss both of you of course. _

_I hope that Isabela is fine and that she was not injured in what you call your little occupations or what Susan referred to as your ignorant, annoying, stupid, idiotic detour in a variety of creative words and vocabulary that I am unwilling to mention in this letter. And in response to your letter I am very much worried about my 'beloved wife'. Take care of her, Ed. And of Susan and Lucy as well. May Aslan be with you. _

Creak, creak. Startled Isabela darted away from the desk, hastily dropping the letter on the huge pile of papers.

'Lia?' Edmund's pale face appeared from behind the door, his expression confused. 'What are you doing here?'

Heat burned through her cheeks and colour tinged them making them almost rosy in the lamplight.

'Well….I…I…Susan….she…..she….uh…uh…..said to….said to.' Isabela swallowed, suddenly her voice was very, very faint and she faltered.

'Isabela, are you alright?' Edmund's voice was clearly alarmed and he took her arm.

'I'm fine. I…..'

She saw his eyes travel to the letter lying far away from its original position. He stared at it, his dark eyes piercing and judging. He did not glance up but a stern expression appeared on his face.

'Lia, did you sneak into my study to read Peter's letter without my permission?' he asked. Isabela stared blankly at him.

'I….I…. I'm sorry. I did not mean to…..'

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Edmund fighting the mischievous smile that spread across his face.

'So….' He teased. 'Love leads to concern…. Concerned about our tall, blond lover boy? Don't worry I'm sure he's fine.'

'I'm not concerned!' Isabela all but shouted, blushing greatly.

Edmund's eyebrows rose up disappearing under his dark hair but he remained quiet and said nothing.

'I have to go. You come to. Susan will be angry if we are late.'

She turned to leave almost tripping over the hem of her gown in her hurry to leave. As soon as she turned the door knob, Edmund spoke up.

'You know Lia… He may be a big jerk. But he really cares about those he loves. And he loves you. Thought he himself does not know it yet.'

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There was no way out. He was cornered and his death was steadily advancing on him. He wondered whether this was how the prey felt when the predator closed in on it, its fangs visible and gleaming. For certainly at the present moment. He was the prey and Vladimar the predator.

Vladimar knew that as well for even as he advanced he was not very quick and a taunting smirk spread across his face. He spun his blade along his side, relaxing his grip on it ever so slightly.

It was all Peter needed.

Time itself seemed to stop and Vladimar's smirk dissolved as Peter leaped at him, throwing the weight of his body against him. Vladimar's sword clattered out of his firm grip, spinning and spinning endlessly across the marble floor until it paused against the wall with a huge clang. Peter gripped his sword trying to get a clear aim as Vladimar struggled and writhed like a wild animal in a cage.

'Surrender and call of your forces. And you'll not be harmed.' Peter told him. Shock coursed through him when he saw Vladimar's sneer.

'I shall never surrender. It is you who should, little king.'

He raised his hand and his finger twirled themselves as if summoning something. And then Peter felt a blinding pain in his chest as something pierced him. Something sharp, something cold.

Gasping for breath he jabbed his sword against Vladimar drawing it through his side. It did not go anywhere near as deep as Vladimar's blade had gone. Weakness shot through him and he could feel his vision blurring.

Vladimar threw Peter off him effortlessly and his swords flew into his hand. For that instant Peter felt as if he had gone mad. The blade which had been in his backside only a moment before was now in Vladimar's bloodied hand. But no. It was reality. He was a sorcerer. Or a magician. That's how he had managed to win.

Peter closed his eyes knowing that he had less than zero chance to win. As his lashes flickered a memory came back to him. Of the only time when Edmund had managed to win over him. The sickening feeling he had felt at that moment came back to him as he remembered that day. But it was an excellent plan. One of Edmund's best.

He slumped against the wall, letting his body loose, all the tension flowing quickly out of him along with the blood that poured out of his wound. Rhindon cluttered down but not very far, just on his feet, propped up against his leg but out of his grasp.

He could feel the blood pounding through him and it took all of his effort not to open an eye and glance at Vladimar. His ears pricked up when he heard the low sound of feet as Vladimar stalked across the floor to him.

His shadow leaned over Peter and Peter knew that he was not sure whether Peter was unconscious or dead. Finally it seemed he reached his conclusion and Peter felt him fingers close around his throat. He struggled from flinching and remained lifeless. Vladimar leaned over him and said.

'It seems you have lost little king. I suppose Narnia shall be lost now. But don't worry, I'll make sure I capture it and take it for myself. Your siblings shall be grieved greatly from your death and your people shall mourn their great High King. And of course, young Isabela shall be a widow now.' He made a mournful sound, mocking him. Peter felt fury course through him at his words. 'But don't worry. I shall be merciful to them all.'

He laughed and raising his head emitted a sound somewhere between a scream, a roar and a laugh. Peter knelt down taking the hilt of his sword and quick as a panther he lunged, not wasting a moment. Rhindon flashed before him in the faint light, glittering and gleaming in a magnificent curve. Vladimar was still laughing in triumph his face wild and feral.

Rhindon ended it.

Vladimar himself did not realize what had happened and he was still laughing, choking over the blood that gargled from his mouth. Finally he understood what had happened and a snarl appeared on his face.

'I hate you!' he screamed. 'I hate you! You shall not live! Your house shall be destroyed, I swear it! I promise you, you shall die a death more painful than anything!'

'But why are you doing this?' Peter asked quietly. 'I do not know you. I have never fought against you.'

Death was grasping Vladimar now and his skin was turning inky pale, almost papery white. His expression was of loathing and venomous hate.

'You…..you killed my…..my sister.'

Peter's eyebrows shot up under his golden bangs. An expression of confusion crossed his face.

'Your sister?'

'Ja…..Ja…..'

And he spoke no more. His body glowed black and white and vanished entirely. Peter stared at it vacantly, his expression blank. He tried to stand up but his feet would not allow it and he fell back to the floor.

The room was spinning around him and the floor had vanished like Vladimar's body. Blind spots dotted across his line of vision and he knew no more.

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Isabela leaned against the steel railing, icy cold against her pale skin, as she breathed in the salty sea air of the night. Her head was nearly bursting with pain and there was a dull ache in her temples.

Hollowly she stared over the balcony lit dully with three floating candles. The night fell like a huge, thick blanket of darkness over the horizon and beyond. Far away she could see the glow of stars that dotted distantly the black sky. Suddenly her head burst with pain again and she nearly fell over.

Despite the turmoil she was in, her ears pricked up at the sound of rustling bushes. She glanced up, her eyes as wide as a startled animal's and narrowing her eyes she studied the gardens below.

Whispers. Sounds of shuffling feet. Alarm shot through her just as lightening bolted across the sky in the midst of a fierce storm. She half ran inside the room and hastily pulled on a velvet robe. Not an ideal choice but it would have to do.

Tripping over the hem of her robe she ran down the spiral staircase descending into a corner of the Great Hall, skipping two steps at a time. Ideas of how to best attack the intruders and thoughts flitting between rational and irrational flooded her. Probably these were not invaders. Perhaps they were the guards or any of the servants off for a detour. Or- it could be Edmund. But then again they were in the middle of a war and in war almost any intruder was an attacker.

She slipped over the marble floors, her pace quick but her stepping light and lithe as a cat's. It was a moonless night.

The gardens were lush and soothing as always. The trees murmuring, the leaves swaying to the lullaby of the crooning wind. The noise had stopped and Isabela could hear nothing however hard she strained to hear something, anything.

Finally she heard someone wave aside the bushes just around the corner of the main garden, towards the vegetable orchids.

In the darkness she saw a glint of a sword and her heart nearly dropped. They were armed. Silently she bent down all the while keeping her eye out for some attacker and grabbed the first rock lining the pathway that came into her reach. It was barely bigger than a pebble but it was all she had. She cursed herself for not bringing her sword or even a dagger or a knife from the kitchens.

She peeked around and saw a figure leaning against a tree, nearly in level with the ground. Apparently the moon was present though it was covered by large clouds because as soon as the shadowy figure tilted its head back and light fell on its features, she saw it was Edmund. Relief was numb in her because instinct insisted that something was wrong, seriously wrong. Why would Edmund be leaning on the ground of the gardens at night?

Then Edmund groaned and she hurried to him, kneeling against him.

'Ed! Are you…. What happened? Why are you here?' she whispered furiously. Edmund barely glanced at her but instead moaned more. Worried she scanned him for injuries.

So occupied was she that her guard was completely down and the rock she had been carrying, far out of reach and so she was caught completely unaware when somebody seized her from behind and dragged her off her feet. Suddenly she was dangling over and strong arms engulfed her. Fear seized her with its strong clutch that she could not throw off no matter how much she tried and she writhed against the person holding her, struggling and kicking.

She tilted her head to see who was grabbing her but then the moon disappeared behind the clouds. She had no weapon, nothing. She was in trouble.

'Ed! Ed! Help me!' Desperately she glanced towards Edmund who was by now standing up. She sought him wondering why he hadn't intervened.

To her horror she saw he was laughing. Laughing hysterically. It was not his familiar mischievous laugh it was not even an amused one. It was entirely frightening and scary and she stared at him momentarily frozen.

'Edmund! Are you insane? Why aren't you helping me?'

The grip became tighter and tighter against her and in the fright and panic of the moment the headaches returned, tugging at her furiously. She could barely see and her eyes were almost shut.

Edmund laughed back, leaning against the tree for support. She saw him shaking his head. She could not understand. Her mind could not comprehend what had happened. It was blank. Had Edmund betrayed his own family? He wouldn't.

She would not, could not accept it.

Suddenly the figure grasping her leaned against her ear, whispering something very softly.

'Are you actually afraid of me, Isabela?'

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Ta da! Another chapter done and finished! And so I will end this on the same note review please!

A. L. Potter


	27. A Silent Victory

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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The voice was warm and oddly familiar, the breath tickled her ear lightly and she desperately tried to wrench her arm away, desperately trying to breathe, desperately trying to break free. She struggled against the iron grip, fierce and warm in its intensity. Her hand broke free of the figure's grasp and uncoiled, striking out at the person holding her.

'Isabela I've survived through wounds very near to the heart, through poisonous bites and dagger gashes. You truly believe that your soft, _manicured _hands can hurt me enough to let you go? Though I have seen them weave a sword more expertly than many warriors.' The voice was cool and terribly amused. Heat rushed to Isabela's face at the words. 'And frankly I'd appreciate it if you struggle less. It is most annoying.'

'Oh and why don't you let me go then?' She snapped rancorously, her words dripping with venom. 'I'm sure I would stop struggling then.'

'No. I prefer holding you.' The figure paused and then asked. 'Haven't you guessed by now who I am?'

'It would be far easier if I could see your face.' She said, only half sarcastic.

'Isabela, you are a good fighter. But not a very clever commander.'

She bit her lip to keep from snapping some inappropriate remark, trying unsuccessfully to keep her cool. She opened her mouth to reply but Edmund spoke, his breathing heavy with constant laughter.

'Oh let her go.' Edmund jumped in, still delighted. 'Even though I am enjoying this drama very much.'

'But I was just getting to the climax!' The person complained, chuckling too.

As they exchanged comments, it slowly dawned on Isabela who the person was. Her face swelled with utter fury and her cheeks turned crimson red.

'Peter!' she screamed angrily. 'You stupid, idiotic, dim witted, little….baboon! Let me go!'

Peter laughed and the arms around her relaxed. She did not wait but launched herself on her husband, throwing her entire weight against him which wasn't much but enough to take him by surprise.

'You did not like my little surprise?' he asked innocently, persistently dodging her hits. She lashed out at him in a wide use of creative vocabulary telling him exactly how she liked his little surprise.

Edmund whistled, his eyes dancing as he stared at the scene unfolding before him with unconcealed glee. Isabela, momentarily distracted, spun around to face him, her eyes blazing and Edmund's face completely drained of colour as he scrambled to get out of the way. He bolted out of the gardens, closely followed by Isabela who he had to admit was very, very fast.

'Come on, Lia. It was just a joke!' He tried to calm her down. 'It was only a stupid joke!'

'Of course. Laughing while somebody nearly strangled me was supposed to be a joke!' She replied sarcastically, punching his back.

'It was Peter! He would never hurt you!' Edmund yelped as he furiously tried to defend himself against her, raising his hands over his head to protect himself. 'I'm sorry! I'm sorry, alright?'

'No!' she said her voice tight, crossing her arms. Edmund looked at her suspiciously, afraid that she would start hitting him again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Peter shuffle next to him, fighting the grin that was slowly spreading over his face.

'Now you've done it.' He whispered dramatically to his elder brother. 'You've aroused her fury and now all of us have to pay the price. Oh what have you done? What have you done?'

'Stop acting like a drama king, Edmund.' Peter said frowning deeply. 'You're not hurt Isabela, are you?'

Isabela shook her head, a slow smile spreading over her face as Edmund spoke up, his voice high and lilting.

'But I _am_ a king.' he pointed out. 'Just not of drama.'

'Very funny, Ed.' Isabela said crossly, glaring at the two brothers. 'I must say that I do not appreciate your regretful, sad sense of drama.'

Edmund looked crest fallen, his expression mock sad. He raised his hand to cover his heart.

'Alas, you have wounded me deeply so with your words, dear lady. I am woeful.'

'Woeful?' Peter asked raising his delicate, golden eyebrows. 'Since when did you learn to use such hard words?'

'Why thank you, my dearest brother.' Edmund managed a graceful bow, brushing back his hair. Peter glanced at him apprehensively.

'Do you even know the meaning of woeful?'

'No.' Edmund shrugged. 'I just wanted to sound sophisticated.'

Peter rolled his eyes, tousling his pale blond hair.

'Delightful.'

'Indeed.' Edmund said haughtily, tossing his head in the air. He glanced at Isabela. 'Why are you staring at me like you want to skin, scald, boil, cook, stew, roast, fry and grill me?'

'Because I do.' She said stiffly.

'Oh.' Edmund's grin vanished and he exchanged glances with Peter who held up his hands.

'Do Susan and Lucy know about your little joke?' She asked them.

'Actually even I did not know about this until just ten minutes before. Peter and I came up with the plan to surprise you with his homecoming.'

'And you could not surprise me in a civilized, decent, respectable, un-strangling way?' She asked Peter pointedly. He shrugged lightly, smiling softly.

'Since when were we any of those things?'

'Good point.'

'Well we certainly did get a reaction from you Isabela.' Edmund said loftily, wisely ignoring the glares directed at him. 'I'm hungry.'

'It's the middle of night, Ed.' Isabela told him.

Edmund gasped almost outraged.

'Is that any reason for not being hungry? I always get up at this time to take a snack.'

Isabela rolled her eyes bur said nothing, stalking away with prickling anger.

'I wonder how somebody with a temper like hers doesn't have red hair. She should have flaming, burning red hair, not black.'

'Don't push your luck, Ed.' Peter warned, ducking down to avoid Edmund's punch and laughing, he dashed away. 'Let's show Su and Lu our little surprise, shall we?'

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'You certainly have a knack for raising Isabela's awful mood, Peter.' Susan noted lightly, her voice low.

'You should get an award for it.' Lucy piped in, throwing back her fiery braid, entwined with gold and red ribbons.

Peter rolled his eyes at her, reclining back and stretching his long legs, his movements strikingly similar to a cat's.

'It's not my fault if the little vixen cannot control her _awful _mood when I'm around.'

'Little vixen?'

'Little cat, whatever you want.' Peter said absentmindedly. 'But a cat with extremely sharp claws that don't hesitate to scratch my face every time they see it.'

'The cat probably treats you with suspicion, I'm not surprised.' Susan shot at him. Her expression softened. 'But you really should try to get along with her Peter, she is your wife. And like it or not, your responsibility and your partner for life.'

Peter's silvery blue eyes darkened under the shadows that fell over them but he said nothing. Lucy gave Susan an apprehensive look, probably worried about Peter. Susan ignored it and continued.

'And more importantly any differences between you and her will give any enemy an open, clear shot at our hearts. It will prove you vulnerable.'

'I do not wish to discuss mine and Isabela's private life, Susan.' Peter said in a cold, hard voice. It was not hurting but there was definitely a _back off _tone in it.

Lucy immediately put a comforting hand over his, shooting Susan pleading glances.

'Lucy, I want to talk to Peter alone. Please.' Susan said coolly, not meeting her eyes.

'I want to stay here!' Lucy said firmly, her face obstinate. Susan mentally sighed.

'It is a personal matter Lucy. Not one for young girls. Please, go.'

'No.'

'Go Lucy. You heard Susan.' Peter spoke up, his voice dangerously low. Lucy cast around for some support and finding none she stood up, bolting out of the room.

As soon as the door banged shut with the entire force of Lucy's wrath, Susan opened her mouth to speak.

'Before you go on, Susan.' Peter interrupted. 'I don't want a lecture from you. You are my younger sister and while you do have a right to caution me, chid me, give your advice you me, I do not appreciate an entire _sermon _from you.'

'I wasn't going to!' Susan said, her tone injured. 'I just wanted to give you some advice.'

'That's always what it starts with.' Peter muttered. His voice grew sarcastically pleasant. 'Shoot away, dear sister of mine.'

'Alright I'll shoot away. Why do both you and Isabela mope around? Why do you act so bitterly around each other? Why do you treat her like an inferior, hurting her feelings again and again and again? Why does she hate you so, it cannot be so without a proper, solid reason, you know. Why are you so angry with her and with all of us?' Susan paused to take a breath, her eyes glinting with a dangerous glow.

'First of all Susan, Isabela and I do not mope around. And-do not interrupt me. We used to act bitterly around each other and it is obvious that we are acting bitterly around each other because we had a fight. I do not treat her like an inferior. If you think that you are sadly mistaken. As for hurting her feelings again and again, I do feel sorry for that. Truly and absolutely sorry. As for why she hates me, you should ask her and not me.' Peter glanced at her, his voice cold. 'And I am not angry at her. I was but not am. How can I be? It isn't her fault that she is married to me. Furthermore if you think that I am angry with you it is because of your own meddling and lack of consideration. I do appreciate your concern but I most definitely do not appreciate your attitude. Otherwise,' Peter's expression softened to a gentle, wistful smile. 'Why would I be angry with you? You are my sister, my confident, my ally, my friend and often my mother too.'

Susan rolled her eyes at his rueful grin, unable to shoot any hurtful words in retaliation. She did not have the heart to chide him after his truthful words, spoken with unshakable honesty.

'I do love you Peter, you know that right?' She reached over to fondly ruffle his pale blonde hair. Peter dodged down, avoiding her hand, grumbling under his breath. 'But I would really be pleased if you and Isabela put aside your discrepancies and truly love each other?'

'That's not possible. Not any more.' Peter said quietly.

'Anything's possible. If you truly try to make it possible.' Susan paused, glancing at him thoughtfully, a mischievous glint in her deep blue eyes. 'Will High King Peter the Magnificent be defeated by something which is thoroughly possible?'

'No.' Peter shot back. 'High King Peter the Magnificent will be defeated by the annoying and irritating beyond belief _whims_ of his womenfolk.'

A radiant smile bloomed across Susan's face and she stood up, smoothing the long skirt of her sea green dress.

'I shall look forward you seeing how you duel against it, Peter.'

'And if I die in the way?'

'I shall prepare a special quotation to be written on your tombstone.' Susan said solemnly.

'Don't bother. Just write: Here lies a man who was always tired, as he lived in a world where too much was required.'

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Susan closed the doors quietly, turning around to bump directly into the face of her younger brother. She shot back, shrieking with rage and surprise. Edmund winced, covering his ears completely.

'Oh Su, don't scream so loudly.'

'Edmund Pevensie! How dare you!'

A goofy grin spread over his freckled, pale face as he leaned against the soft gold walls.

'I dare a lot of things, sister.' He said arrogantly, running a hand through his dark hair. 'You should know that.'

'I do.' She replied crossly, arching an eyebrow. 'What are you doing here?'

'Oh, I saw Lucy striding angrily down the halls. She was really, really mad. Almost on fire. And she filled me in on all the juicy details girls always seem to know. So, naturally, I rushed here to save my dear sister from spending her entire wrath on my poor elder brother. You really shouldn't scold us, Su. You'll get wrinkles on your forehead.'

'I'm more afraid of losing my voice scolding you.'

'That's a lame hyperbole and you know it, Su.'

'Enlighten me as to how you know the meaning of hyperbole?' Susan questioned. 'No. Cross that. Enlighten me as to why you are here.'

'I'm here to calm you down.' He said patiently. 'And to ask you to not choke Peter with your lectures.'

'I don't have enough time. The ball is tonight, you know. And we still have to decorate the Grand Hall, choose the dresses, prepare the refreshments, call the Narnia musicians and so much more.'

'What? Another ball?' Edmund exclaimed. 'Why do girls like balls so much?'

'It is to celebrate our victory over Vladimar's forces and to commemorate the services of the brave soldiers and villagers who fought against them.' Susan explained impatiently, biting her lower lip. 'Will you help me?'

'Always a pleasure helping you my sister.' Edmund managed a graceful bow. 'Shoot away.'

'I need you to go shopping with me. I need somebody to give me advice.' Susan said absently.

'Uh I just realized I had to help Orieus gather more information about the rebellion. See ya.' Edmund fled out of the room, doing his best to keep the horrified expression from his face.

'But Edmund,' Susan shouted after him. 'Orieus is away to give invitations to the other rulers.'

But Edmund was already gone. Huffing angrily Susan strode out of the room, hurrying to give instructions to the Narnians.

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'Why aren't you dancing, Isabela?'

Isabela glanced up, weaving back the locks that had by now escaped from the coiffure Sadeh had so lovingly styled. Her eyebrows rushed together in a fierce scowl as she saw her husband sitting next to her, striking in his scarlet, velvet tunic, his blond hair attractively messed up.

'You do love to scowl every time you see me don't you Isabela?'

'Can you suggest something else I should do, my king?' She enquired sweetly. 'Shouldn't the High King be at the ball celebrating his smashing victory?'

'Shouldn't the High Queen be dancing with him?' Peter shot back, smiling slightly as he leaned back on his arms. 'You look absolutely stunning, my darling significant other.'

His eyes scanned her, taking in each and every detail. Isabela fingered the silky fabric of her pale gold gown; catching attractively at her slender waist and flowing down in lace like spirals over her long legs, the material soft and glowing and utterly eye catching. Susan had chosen it for especially this reason.

'Significant other?' she asked, curving an eyebrow.

'When you live with Susan you learn all difficult words and phrases for the simplest of the words.' He said cheerfully. 'I'm surprised you haven't. While we go back to the original question. Why aren't you dancing?'

'I'm tired of dancing.'

'Dancing yourself or watching others dances?' Peter said laughing.

Isabela smiled.

'Both.'

'Hm….' They fell silent as they stared at the star struck sky, dotted with glittering shapes.

'Isabela?'

Isabela raised her eyes to meet his, her eyes questioning.

'Would you like to accompany me to the Northern March?'

'Northern March?' She asked startled. 'Why?'

'Well.' Peter smiled wryly. 'You are the Countess of the area.'

'Oh. A business matter?'

Peter shrugged unwilling to talk more. Isabela studied him and then raised her hand to his forehead.

'You don't have a fever.' She mused. 'And you look well enough. And you certainly don't have amnesia. What's wrong with you?'

'Why should anything be wrong with me?' Peter questioned, taken aback by her actions. 'I was just asking you to accompany me to the Northern March?'

'Why?' She asked suspiciously. 'Do you plan to drown me there?'

'I think I should be more afraid of you drowning me, Isabela.'

She shot him a burning glare. Just then Edmund poked his head through, smiling idiotically when he saw the scene before him.

'Susan's asking for you. Hurry up. It's time for your dance.'

'We're coming, Ed.' Peter sprung lithely to his feet, extending a hand to Isabela. He said grandly. 'Well, my lady, would you care to dance with me?'

'Maybe.' Smiling mischievously she got up, a sly look in her eyes. 'Just maybe.'

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So we are slowly but surely progressing towards Lia-Peter romance. Seems too unexpected doesn't it. But let's not be too hasty in reading the future after all both the concerned characters are very, very, very unpredictable. Anyways….. Every time I urge you to do this and every time some of my most dedicated readers do it. Yup you guessed it. Reviews please!

A. L. Potter


	28. Checkmate

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

**Author's Note:** Just so my reader are not confused by this chapter, I would like to explain that the Northern March is under Peter's separate rule. He has his private estates there and it is located at a small distance from the border of Archenland and Narnia. This is my imagination though the Northern March is an invention of C. S. Lewis.

**Important: **Please study the spelling of names carefully.

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Peter reined his glossy-manned horse, his blond hair tousled with the blowing breeze, glittering through the wild, messy locks. His eyes narrowed as they scanned the widespread fields of a hundred shades of green, well tended and cared for by the Narnians living at the huge, eye catching manor, standing tall and magnificent with its golden-chestnut walls, the marble balconies extending out of the glistening mirror and the dominating towers, blushing under the first of the sun's gazes, all contributed to its splendour.

Lean trees of blooming jasmines lined the perimeter of the manor, sloping and shadowing over the red earth covered with pure white magnolias and pale blossoms. Their sweet smelling scent covered the air, inevitably drawing artistically butterflies towards them, their wings fluttering delicately. The emerald green bushes towered over the light jade and purple myrtle bushes. Further on were a million types of flora and fauna, all fine and radiant with their bright colours. Blood red, molten yellow, blushing pink tulips, their velvety petals, settled over pea green leaves and stems happily grew around the pale fountain with lamps installed to illuminate the water lights.

He jumped off the brooding mount, brushing back his hair, as he walked through the colourful meadow to the stables located on the gigantic property. The sleek horse pawed its way carefully over the ground so as to not disturb the imaginary tiny beings underneath. Or to guard itself against the insects. Peter laughed softly, patting its head gently.

'I'm sure there are no bugs here. Don't worry they won't harm you.'

The horse snorted (It was not a Narnian one) and glared at its chuckling master. Peter treaded his way to the lush coolness of the estate, his long legs graceful in their stride. There was a silent magic about this place that even Cair Paravel could not match. The Northern March held a charm which was rivalled by none what with the architect's dream mansions, wild jungles, gooey marshes and swamps and the wide array of scenery available.

Perhaps it was the constant neighing of the horse or Peter's own laughter which attracted the attention of the two fauns assigned to look after the stables, mares and horses. They came flying down to meet him, hands raised in salutes, heads bowed in respect as they shook his outstretched hands.

'My lord Peter! We were not expecting you for at least another week.' The elder of the two, a muscled male, exclaimed. 'The servants are running hither and to with haste. I daresay there is a great chance of a serious accident.'

The second, much younger one, tawny haired and lean, opened his mouth to speak when a baby centaur came trotting to join them.

'My king!' He said delightedly. 'You came at last!'

'Greetings to you as well, Aidan. I hope you and your family are in good health?' Peter questioned, keeping his expression serious as he inquired after the welfare of each of their families.

'My lord?' Aidan asked hesitatingly. Peter glanced at him inquiringly. 'My lord, did you not bring the High Queen with you? I mean- we-we-us-I-we are all-uh-eager to meet her.'

It was apparent that the two fauns had been itching to ask the question as well, that much Peter judged from their faces.

'Isabela desired to wander around the estates further down. She was very much intrigued by the wonder and beauty of the area so well-tended by you.' Peter answered. 'Do take the horse to the stable. Take good care for her, tend her lovingly, understand?'

'Yes my lord.' The elder faun murmured taking the reins from him. He shot a warning glance at his comrade who was opening his mouth to speak yet again. 'Come along both of you.'

Peter climbed up the sloping hill leading to the side of the manor where a smaller entrance was. He felt the wind caressing his face, touching it lightly with its fingers, tangling its waves into his hair as he made his way to the entrance. He paused to smell the aroma of the jasmines hanging down from the trees, touching them gingerly before weaving through to the southern foyer.

The guard lying across a wooden chair rose up swiftly, his hand rising up in a salute as he bowed low. He murmured some greetings, questioning about the welfare of the younger kings and queens as he wove around feverishly.

Peter made a small talk with him, enquiring about the young man's family, left behind in Archenland. He distinctly remembered the guard's name and those of his near relatives. He had learned long ago that such small things simply guaranteed without a doubt unending loyalty and a sense of comradeship.

The guard paused in mid-reply and saluted again before bowing, his face flushing completely. Peter turned around to find his wife standing there, her long hair pulled back into a wild plait. Her skin was a healthy pink and her veiled eyes glittered emerald as she caught Peter's sleeve.

'You were right!' She exclaimed. 'There are at least ninety cats in the den by the river.'

'Did you count them, Isabela?' Peter asked, amused by his wife's enthusiasm. In that moment she seemed like a small child. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the guard straighten, his face still reddened.

It had never occurred to him that other men might think Isabela attractive.

A small frown formed on his face as he glanced down at Isabela whose head barely reached his jaw. She stared up at him, her face curious at his change in attitude.

'What's wrong Peter?'

'Nothing.' Peter snapped out of his wavering reverie and waved his hands casually, neatly dodging her question. 'I hope you like the scenery of the area.'

He half expected her to raise her eyebrows and scowl at him avoiding her question. He was more than surprised when she launched into great detail about how she found the place absolutely stunning, chattering away quickly. A small smile appeared on his face at her innocent words as he deftly steered her into the manor, listening attentively to her words.

_She's so young. _He thought ruefully as they were overtaken by the servants and Narnians rushing to meet them. He saw their gazes avert to Isabela, studying her eagerly. The crowd was pushed aside by a large, lumbering form that pushed its way through, scowling back at those who glared at it.

Peter half groaned, half grinned as he stared at the hale, wrinkled woman who despite her age moved faster than some of the younger servants as she stared crossly at him, hands on her hips, her lower lip thrust out in disapproval.

The servants fled under the withering glare that she shot at them and Peter wryly observed as even the most fierce Narnians shot off, hastily muttering excuses and farewells.

'Sir Peter! I have told you and told you never to stay out for long. And now you keep Mistress Isabela out too! She can catch a cold in the chill. You think you came here just to fall ill? I say, I won't look after you if you fall ill because of these whims of yours. No sir!' she said loudly. 'I won't! So you better be careful.'

'Calm down, Heulwen.' He raised his hands in surrender. 'We just got here. I promise we weren't lingering out.'

'I ain't a child, Sir Peter.' She replied snappily. 'I know where you were and what you were doing. Aslan's mane! In this cold and without a shawl or a coat.'

'But Heulwen it is not cold outside. The sun is almost out.' Peter said impatiently, glaring at Isabela's inability to control her laughter. 'Can you please tell us where our room is?'

'So! You think you can escape my lecture! Oh no!' she added as she lumbered through the spacious hall to the marble staircase. 'You may be a king yet, Sir Peter, but I is older than you and more wiser as well. You may be taller than me, and Aslan am I proud of that, I can still scold you if I like it.'

'If course Heulwen.' Peter said neutrally, his voice more than amused. 'This is Isabela, my wife. I trust you know her?'

Heulwen paused in mid-climbing to spin around and glower at him.

'You think I do not know who your wife is?' She turned to Isabela, regarding her fondly. 'My young mistress is sure to strike the envy of the others. And you done set your mind to give her a cold!'

She rounded on Peter accusingly before she resumed her slow climbing.

'I like her.' Isabela whispered to his, rising up to murmur lightly in his ear. Her breath tickled his earlobe.

'Of course you do. She loves you already.' Peter told her, slipping an arm around her waist.

Isabela smiled slightly before studying the main wall of the manor which was painted with the backdrop of Cair Paravel standing against the setting sun. It was a magnificent painting, made centuries ago during the time of King Frank and Queen Helen.

'Here is your room.' Heulwen said finally, puffing for air as she stopped beside a large door. 'I will set together your breakfast. And you is going to eat it, understand?' She said sternly as Peter opened his mouth to talk. 'Make haste or I'll drag you down by your ears.'

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Edmund leaned back against his chair, tilting it back so that it stood on its spindly wooden legs as he wove through the book in his hand. It was embossed with silver and gold and held together by a tight lock. The history of Narnia handwritten by one of the initial queens, Cassandra, if he remembered correctly.

So engrossed was he that he did not notice the opening and closing of the door to his study. He only glanced up once a small shadow fell on him. He smiled tiredly as he looked innocently up at Lucy whose red hair, flowing loosely over her pale nightgown, almost blazed.

'You should be asleep, Lu.' He admonished shifting slightly to extend his legs.

'So should you.' She noted quietly, perching on the edge of the chair and yawning widely. 'What are you doing?'

'Oh, I'm looking for some trace of Vladimar's history in these books.' He said casually, his eyes flying over to study her intently. 'Why?'

Lucy shrugged and her eyes wandered over the bronzed pages. Edmund looked down too, absorbing every small detail of the writing.

_During the age of Queen Swanwhite the First, the sovereign state of Narnia extended itself to many vast areas including the Northern and Western Marches. Here it is rumoured that many creatures were trained in the ways of combat and other technical skill. And indeed their people seemed to be unique and excellent warriors. However there was an odd charisma around them, an aura that flickered through. A traveller once commented that these people knew the laws of wizardry and witchcraft and gave birth to generations of skilled wizards, sorcerers and magicians. Truly did it seem true. They were special, people believed, by the way they carried themselves and acted around other people of other tribes and nations._

'There!' Lucy exclaimed, pointing a finger towards the lower half of the second page. 'I think this will tell us something about him.'

Edmund said nothing, only sweeping away his coffee-brown hair and glimpsed at the passage where Lucy had pointed.

_On her frequent travel to both the swampy yet stunning Marches, Queen Swanwhite the First disguised herself as a poor human. During one of these ventures she met a young boy whom her close Narnian ally described as 'a beautiful boy with shoulder length dark hair and crimson red eyes that matched pools of blood.' The oldest found chronicles of her time suggest that Queen Swanwhite was instantly intrigued by the child due to his odd behaviour and aloof demeanour and that she continued to meet him for quite some time. His name is mentioned as Vladimir or Vlad. As time went on the various spies and scouts sent to these areas began to vanish with no trace whatsoever. No news of their deaths reached Queen Swanwhite the First and as the months changed into years with no news or reports she was obliged to accept that they had either betrayed her or been discovered. Her own visits to the Marches continued. On the eve of Samhain-_

'What's Samhain?' Lucy interrupted her voice curious. With difficulty Edmund tore his eyes from the text to roll his eyes at her, only a little irritably.

'Halloween. The day of the ghosts coming back to the world, the day when the dead are given food and water to last for the next complete year.' He replied shortly, turning back to huge book, shifting uncomfortably under its heavy, intense weight.

_On the eve of Samhain, Queen Swanwhite travelled to the Western March in the disguise of a gypsy woman, her face smeared with soot to conceal her features. There she wove in and out among the crowd, taking in each and every detail of the people. They appeared ordinary, casual and interested in their own businesses however they seemed to have a restless energy among them, an energy that seemed entirely supernatural. One of the Narnian spies who had successfully managed to relay some essential piece of information before he had disappeared had stated in his second letter that festivals of the dead were extremely important to the creatures of the Marches including Samhain and they celebrated it with great fervour and chilling enthusiasm. The spy had written that the locals practiced odd customs throughout the year but most importantly that the weather in the Marches could very easily be predicted (and very accurately too) by the locals. They seemed to know whether it would snow heavily or rain lightly, for how many hours, minutes and seconds the sun would be present and what would be the intensity of its heat as the Narnian mentioned briefly. In his very last letter he ended with a single phrase of Old Narnian which if translated into one of the language of the Other World, English, meant _That Which Weeps But Collects It's Tears._ Mystified Queen Swanwhite tried to figure out as to what the words meant but was unable to make any sense out of it. On her Samhain visit she made other startling discoveries amongst which was that young Vladimir had two blood sisters both of whom had special abilities and incredible charm. Witches, some people said, Sorceresses. The Queen met briefly with both of them however she never mentioned her conversation with them nor did she describe them. Soon after returning to the capital she contracted an acute illness, a deadly one which had no cure and she exactly a month after returning Queen Swanwhite the First breathed her last. _

_No more mention was made of what had happened during her reign and indeed after many generations of inter marriages with Narnians, Archenlanders, Calormen and other tribes these people were accepted as kinsmen. No evidence remains of Queen Swanwhite's meeting with Vladimir and his two sisters. Many believe that they died soon after the Queen herself. _

Edmund finished reading and looked up at Lucy's clear doe-brown eyes, as confused as his.

'Well what now?' She asked tentatively. Edmund did not answer but instead stared at the text, seeing yet unseeing. His mind was racing, running like a wild rabbit with its ears on fire.

'I don't know.' He said finally. 'There is something vital hidden in this text yet I cannot deduce what it is or how it will help us. We don't even know whether this is about Vladimar or not.'

'It mentioned Vladimar's name, Ed.' Lucy pointed out, matter-of-factly.

'Don't ever become a detective, Lu. You didn't read it carefully.' A faint smile crossed Edmund's face. 'It doesn't say _Vladimar_. It says _Vladimir_. Difference of the letter i.'

'So? It's the same thing Ed!' Lucy crossed her arms.

'No its not. These are two different names. Maybe of two different people.'

'But it can be that he changed his name over the years. Its been centuries since Queen Swanwhite the First's rule. Or maybe the name isn't correct. I mean Queen Swanwhite did not mention his name herself. It was only supposed by-' Lucy glanced down. 'He was also called Vlad. That's too much of a coincidence.'

'As far as we know Vladimar only had one sister whom he mentioned.'

'He could have a hundred that we wouldn't know about.'

'But why did he only mention one?' Edmund insisted. 'If he had other sisters they probably would have assisted him to get revenge.'

'Not necessary. They could be dead or even in hiding.' Lucy countered. 'Oh this is so confusing.'

'Hang on.' Edmund knelt his raven head over the book. 'We have a major clue in this book. We know that Vladimir and his two sisters were from the Western March.'

'Or Northern.' Lucy interrupted.

'Or Northern.' Edmund agreed. 'Maybe some of the original locals are still alive. Maybe they know something about what happened.'

'I don't think they would be alive.' Lucy said doubtfully, squinting thoughtfully. 'But still it's worth a try.'

'It's settled then.' Edmund closed the book and struggled to his feet. 'We go to the Western March.'

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Thank you, thank you, and thank you to all my readers! Please continue to review and send me your feedback, comments and criticisms. I request you all to please tell me constantly how you think I can improve the story and my writing!

A. L. Potter


	29. The Sorcerer's Shadow

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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'Isabela! Wake up! Do you intend to sleep till dusk?' Peter demanded to his slender wife who lay on the seven poster bed, deep in slumber, her breath lulling, her face, for once, peaceful.

Receiving yet again no answer, he scowled deeply, running his hand through his cropped blond hair in exasperation before kneeling beside her sleeping form, he shook her.

'Come on.' He muttered angrily. Still louder he said: 'Wake up, Isabela!'

His only answer was Isabela turning away from him, rubbing her face against the fluffed up pillow as if seeking softness. Losing his patience he rose up, snatching away both the pillow and the velvet blanket which was wrapped around her and in the process he none too ceremonially pulled her to the floor.

She sat up at once, glowering at her laughing husband.

'You go to-.' She bit her lip tersely. 'Why did you wake me up?'

'Look out the window.' He said shortly. 'It's almost noon.'

Grumbling she slipped out of bed, her long hair wild and untamed. He watched her intently, amused by her quiet muttering. Laughing softly he picked up her chemise and cotton dress from the wooden chest. He threw them to her as she proceeded to the dressing room, picking up random clothes on her way.

'Isabela.' Peter called after her, desperately trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. 'I don't think my tunic will fit you very well.'

The muttering stopped and he found his summer tunic hurled at him, striking him straight in the face.

'I'll send in Heulwen.' He called. Shaking his head he slipped out of the room in search of the huge giantess.

Leaning against the wall of the dressing room, Isabela heard the door shut as he went out, heard him call out to Heulwen before she sank to the floor, her cheeks warm from the heat that flooded them.

_Dear Aslan_. She thought quietly. _Why do I keep humiliating myself?_

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the opening and closing of the door. For one instant she thought Peter had returned but the lumbering thread told her otherwise. Seconds later Heulwen's face appeared from behind the drawn curtains.

'Some folks think I am a flying griffin now.' She grumbled as she hurried to and fro. 'What is my kitten going to wear?'

'This?' She held up the cotton dress in her hand. Instantly Heulwen was in her arms.

'No, you aren't. It's utter cold out there. And I ain't going to have you catch a cold the day you got here. Let's see.' She opened the drawer containing the Isabela's clothes, shuffling through them one by one before she pulled out one, spreading it before her.

It was a dress Isabela had long since forgotten. It too was made of cotton but the material was reasonably thicker than that of the previous dress. The peach colour complimented Isabela's skin and slim figure and the brown ribbon work added to its glory.

'Turn around.' Heulwen commanded as she lowered the breezy dress over Isabela's figure, drawing the strings at the back together into intricate knots. Her wide hands deftly pulled and pinned back Isabela's dark locks until they were completely off her neck, high up in the form of three silken buns.

Heulwen stared at it in satisfaction, pride in her voice as she spoke, nodding her head.

'There ain't nobody in all the lands as pretty as my kitten.' She said approvingly as she brushed imaginary dust from Isabela's shoulders. Isabela smiled ever so slightly, trying in vain to conceal her yawn. 'Let us go down to breakfast.'

Sleep still weighed heavily on Isabela and it was obvious that for all her dimples and correct replies her mind was foggy and clouded. If it hadn't she would have immediately questioned why they were eating _breakfast_ if it was almost _noon_.

On arriving in the dining hall downstairs, Isabela realized much to chagrin and indignation that the sun had barely risen from the tinged horizon. Her fury was evident by the sharp words which she threw at Peter who was grinning lazily.

'It's your fault you didn't look out the window.' He pointed out, reclining back elegantly in his chair and studying her impassively.

'Can you stop staring at me while I'm eating?' Isabela asked exasperated and still irritated.

'Gladly.' Thereafter he did not glance at her and instead began observing the hall instead. Still Isabela could not help but feel the intensity of his azure gaze on her whenever she glanced down.

Her plate was still heaped with food, courtesy of Heulwen who seemed to take it upon herself to make sure that she was stuffed like a turkey on Thanksgiving. One yawn followed another and she was too tired to eat properly. Only Heulwen's set face, staring intently on every piece that passed from the plate to Isabela's mouth, as if she intended to force it down should she see any break, compelled her to keep on eating.

'I wanted us to go around to the southern part of the estate today.' Peter stated, looking at her keenly. 'I think you shall enjoy yourself there.'

Isabela did not reply. Peter thought it was because of her annoyance at his morning joke but it was mainly because she was in danger of throwing up if she opened her mouth.

Heulwen collected the plates, heaping them together carefully and bellowing for the other servants to help her. As the others scurried about she began muttering under her breath about the 'the laziness of them no good servants'.

'What's there?' Isabela questioned as both she and Peter rose up.

'What's where?' Peter raised his delicate gold eyebrows.

'Where we are going.' She said impatiently, shooting him a glare. 'You knew what I was talking about.'

Peter passed over her second remark and instead dedicated himself to describing in great detail exactly how the southern part of the Northern March looked. Isabela listened fascinated despite herself and so engrossed was she in the conversation she did not notice the young girl bowing before Peter, a letter held out in her dusty hand.

Silently he ripped open the seal and scanned the two paged letter. Suddenly he laughed.

'What?' Isabela asked entirely nonplussed.

'Tell Heulwen to get one of your evening gowns ready for the night.' He said, waving the letter in her face. 'We have been cordially invited to a ball at the house of the honourable Lord Drian and Lady Judith of Lloyen Hall.

'_Excuse me_?' Isabela's bewilderment must have been very obvious for Peter glanced up and a soft smile appeared on his face.

'Just get ready.'

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'Well Sir what can I do for you. It is not often a wayfarer comes our way.'

Edmund would have been extremely comfortable and at ease had it not been for the old man who continuously leaned over him. Shrivelled and ancient, he left Edmund wondering profusely how he had so much energy to talk on and on and on. The gaunt lines of the man's face were lying in layers on his hale forehead and cheeks but for all his aged appearance his blood shot eyes danced with mirth, shrewdness and vivaciousness.

_Honestly. I've never heard such a boring speech. And _I _grew up with _Susan.

'I'm sorry lad. But what did you say your name was?'

'Edwin.' He answered automatically, his voice soft and compelling. He gazed across the table at the old man. 'And yours?'

'Ah, call me Ner.' He answered gruffly, reaching for the amber coloured liquid in the beer mug. The foam almost overflowed like a bunch of lilies over a waterfall and only a part of the handle was fully exposed.

Edmund stared disgusted as Ner gulped it down in one swoosh. His own drink lay unnoticed and untouched across from him. His hood covered his face very well and his features lay in shadows and darkness. Despite his repugnance and revulsion (Susan would be proud) he was glad at every drink Ner took. Each gulp meant the quicker he would get his answers.

It had not been easy or inexpensive to convince Ner to come with him. Only the idea of free drinks had finally convinced the old man to accompany the new stranger to the local bar. It was remote and filled with people of the worst crowd.

Edmund had chosen it for precisely this reason.

Nobody here knew him and it was better and far easier to negotiate with Ner without someone he knew bearing down on him.

He had met Ner earlier in the morning, nearly at the crack of dawn as he wove around town, weaving in and out of shops, talking to people here and there. Previously he had never been to this side of the Western March. True some of his soldiers often came here for _fun _and _entertainment_ and he had kept tabs through them only. Now he understood why Queen Swanwhite the First had been intrigued by the people of the area.

They were special. Strange. All of them looked ordinary and would have passed easily for people of the neighbouring villages had it not been for their darting eyes and unique mannerisms. No, unique was too kind a word. Bizarre. Eccentric. Weird. All of them were perfect words to describe the locals. Finally he had met Ner whom he immediately gathered was much weaker than others. More prone to money, free drinks and the like….

'Why are you here, Edwan?' Ner's words were slurred.

'Edwin.' Edmund corrected. Grinning silently he looked sharply at Ner. 'I am here to ask you about some people.'

'Ask away, Edran.'

He didn't even bother to correct it this time. 'Do you know somebody named Vladimir also known as Vlad.'

'Old Vladimir?' Ner asked, leaning back. 'Brother of the Witches.'

'Yes.' Interested Edmund leaned forwards. 'Is he still here? What's he known as now?'

Ner relaxed into his chair and glanced at Edmund from his red-rimmed eyes.

'Last I heard he was up North. Just on the border of this country and the neighbours…eh….wait…..aha!...Aehenland…or was it Acenland?' Confused he rubbed his almost naked scalp.

'Archenland.' Edmund replied flatly, not bothering to keep the abhorrence out of his voice. 'You were saying?'

'Ah yes….As I was saying he was also called….'

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Isabela tried to smile politely as the ornament laden, glittering ladies reclining around her laughed heartily at Lady Judith's dry comment on one of her neighbour's servant. She failed miserably and instead opted for nodding her head. On and on the ladies prattled harmlessly about the latest gossip and scandals rocking the locals of the area. Apparently the wife of one of the neighbouring lords had eloped with the captain of her husband's army and the dogs of some lord had bitten another lord and the lady next door had worn a shockingly low evening gown to the balls held some weeks ago.

Isabela had never been fascinated by this world wide hobby of women around the world and the atmosphere in which she had grown into a young woman had never bothered to concern itself into other people's affairs. Admittedly Dane, Lorien and James, being men, had no interest in gossiping due to their natural genetics. They never cared to lend an ear to _lowly, useless, unnecessary talk and entirely pointless_ at that as they pointed out. Ginerva herself had never indulged in this activity and yet she knew everything about everyone because the people around her found her as a friend in need, a shoulder to cry on. As a result Isabela herself had never cared to sit around with the other young ladies to discuss who did what, where, why, when and how. Worse still she found herself bored by it.

It was no secret to other ladies that the High Queen was entirely not interested in their conversation. They had tried time and again to indulge her in the talk and she had answered their queries warmly but briefly and to the point. She was a gracious lady, sociable and affable and very friendly but they could not help but notice the lacking note. They qualified their bewilderment over their dainty china cups with delicately raised eyebrows to Lady Judith who was the hostess after all.

'Isabela do tell us about your home. We are all eager to learn more about you.' Lady Judith said softly, clearing her throat. The pale gold dress showed small hints of the bright golden chemise underneath. Colourful embroidery lined the hems and the sleeves which were puffed up at the ends.

'Oh, Cair Paravel is very stunning. It draws your heart towards itself and you cannot help but fall in love with it. The Queens Susan and Lucy bring much brightness to the place and they are sisters to me. King Edmund is always joking around and makes all of us laugh greatly. It is….home.' Isabela's voice was almost dreamy. She added courteously. 'You must come and visit. I am sure you will love it.'

'You hail from Narnia?' One of the ladies, a huge woman clad in billowing red velvet which concealed the folds of fat asked.

'No. I was born in Liriope.' Isabela answered a trifle bit stiffly hoping against hope they would not question her about her family. The lady did not hear the _back off_ note in her voice and went on.

'Wasn't Liriope occupied?' She asked oblivious to Isabela's discomfort.

'It was. It is currently under the rule of King Ashkan.'

'Oh.' The woman said for the lack of anything. 'Your family is there?'

Immediately the ambience of the room changed and it was so sudden and intense that all the ladies fell silent.

'Yes my brothers and sister-in-law were there before the siege.'

'Were? They are not there now?' Another woman asked whom Isabela compared to a mouse because of her pointed features, jutting chin, sharp nose and too prominent cheekbones.

'They are dead.' She answered flatly, her voice blank and her face devoid of any emotion. She struggled against the dull ache in her heart even as she said those words for her heart told her that her younger brothers must be alive.

'I'm sorry.' Judith answered uncomfortably. 'I am very sorry.'

The other ladies murmured their condolences, stifled apologies and kind words to her.

'Thank you for your consideration and sympathy.' Isabela replied formally, her eyes veiled from them. Again the ladies exchanged uncomfortable, questioning glances at each other, telegraphing their helplessness by lowered eyes and soft shrugs.

'Do go on with your conversation. I would like to know more about the people of the area.' Isabela said abruptly, painfully aware of the exchanged glances.

Gratefully Judith plunged into explaining in detail how she had come to be here, her marriage with Lord Drian, her huge plantation and the estate that surrounded the manor they were sitting in. The other ladies joined in, eager to escape their discomfort.

Isabela barely heard them and although she made the correct replies her heart was still throbbing painfully. Her mind was a long way off, hidden away in the lush fields of Liriope where a young Isabela ran squealing as her brothers chased her through the fields. Lorien, the most mischievous, picked her up, swinging her into the air by holding her legs. Screaming in fright she called for Dane and James to help her. Shooting a glare at Lorien, James came forth soothing his black haired sister and patting her head as he embraced her lightly. The scene shifted. Now she saw herself swaying on a garden swing as Dane propelled her forwards, patiently answering her million questions, explaining to her every thing she was confused about as the beautiful, red haired lady next door, Ginerva Sanchez, came into the garden. She had not known why Ginerva was there or why her brother suddenly flushed. It was a year later that she stood in a flowing white dress and bridesmaid's flowers in her hands watching the wedding of her eldest brother to the lady with red hair. Memories flew over her, a blur and she saw her father's stern but gentle face, her beautiful mother's serene, loving expressions, Dane's severe, just and handsome features, Lorien's eyes twinkling with mischievousness, James's calm, mild face with its tender expression and Ginerva's affectionate face in her vision.

'Lady Isabela?' Judith asked, gently shaking her. 'It is time for dinner.'

'Yes, yes.' Fumbling Isabela rose to her feet, smoothing her gown. 'Where to?'

'This way.' Judith pushed back her tawny braids, her owlish eyes searching Isabela's face. 'I am sorry for the earlier inconsideration. I truly did not want to remind you of….of your past memories. Please forgive me.'

'No. It is all right.' Isabela said awkwardly, trying not to sound sarcastic. Glancing around her she saw none of the ladies were around them anymore. 'Where are the other ladies?'

'They are already in the dining hall. I stayed behind to accompany you down.' Judith studied her face. They were almost near the dining hall. Isabela felt a great appreciation as the aroma of deliciously cooked food came to them. Hesitating slightly, Judith said. 'And my lady, you are not alone in your tragedy. My family too died during the siege on Liriope.'

Without giving the stunned Isabela a chance to reply she marched inside, taking Isabela in with her. Everybody was already seated and many glances rose questioningly at them. Amongst them was Peter's and that of a dark haired man beside him who rose up and bowed smartly taking Isabela's hand in his own huge one.

'Lady Isabela. What an honour to meet you in person. Truly a pleasure to meet a strikingly beautiful lady such as you. I hope you are enjoying the evening thus far?' He asked her, his twinkling eyes rising to meet hers. So he must be Lord Drian

'Thank you, my lord.' Isabela replied softly. 'Indeed I am enjoying myself very much. Rarely have I ever attended such a splendid event.'

Lord Drian suddenly grinned and softly punched Peter across the shoulder.

'I must say, my lord, your wife too has your gift of flattering and buttering up.'

'She does indeed.' Peter conceded finally. Lady Judith, excusing herself, gently guided Isabela to the other end of the table, talking to her in low, quiet tones befitting the lady of the house.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur and Isabela was scarcely aware of the time when both she and Peter took their leave, warmly thanking their hosts for their hospitality and kindness.

Outside it was raining cats and dogs. Rain poured down from the stormy sky as thunder and lightening coloured up the sky. Both of them were half drenched as they made their way back.

'Where are Lord Drian and Lady Judith from?' Isabela asked curiously back in the manor as Peter threw his lean, graceful body on the wide bed. 'Are they Narnian?'

'Lord Drian is from Archenland though his mother was a Narnian dryad. Lady Judith is from Calormene.'

'Oh.' Isabela replied for a lack of anything to say as she struggled out of the dress she had worn to the dinner at Lloyen Hall. The strings caught together tightly, clamouring together as she tried to untangle herself. Finally she managed to take off the dress, losing her balance and almost toppling over to the marble floor. Heaping the dress on the cabinet she reached up to untangle the complex knots of her long chemise. Spinning and twirling she tried to wound her fingers through one of the loops that bound together the other ones and instead tangled her fingers into her long locks. Finally in desperation she called out:

'Peter? Can you please untie the knots for me?'

'Why don't you call Heulwen and have her do it?' He questioned irritably from the behind the velvet drapes of the bed.

'Heulwen's out on an errand. She won't be back for another hour at least.'

'Then sleep in your chemise.' His voice floated back to her. 'I'm not a lady's maid.'

'Please, Peter?' She asked biting her lip as she writhed against the wall trying to undo the knots. Finally she heard him sigh heavily and rise to his feet. His shadow loomed over her as he turned her around, deftly pulling at the strings.

'Aslan's mane, Isabela! What did you do to get it into this much of a mess?' He growled under his breath. Heat rushed to her cheeks as he pulled again and she stumbled back against him. He called out exasperatedly. 'Stay still Isabela!'

'Sorry.'

'No need. Here.'

'Thanks.' She muttered as she loosened the untied knots. Sliding into her nightgown she slipped under the velvet covers of the seven poster bed, grateful for the warmth against the cold outside.

She was almost asleep when their came a hasty knocking on the door. Rousing herself as Peter jumped up to unlatch the door she saw the young guard she had seen earlier with a frightened expression on his face. His face was ashen and his hair stuck to his forehead.

'My liege, King Edmund….King Edmund… He… He is...'

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And so the story moves on… Many of you might be confused about the Vladimar and Vladimir mystery but soon it will become clearer to you. I will end the chapter on the same note. Please put forth your comments and suggestions…. Reviews please!

A. L. Potter


	30. The Hidden Cave

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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Edmund Pevensie was in trouble.

No.

Cross that.

He was in _a hell_ lot of trouble. Even as he galloped down the shadowy forest with the howling wind and shrilly crying horse buffeted him from side to side as he desperately tried to maintain his balance he knew he was doomed.

His mount neighed violently as the exquisitely carved branches clawed wildly at its long face. He tried to calm the horse down, murmuring soft words under his breath as they bolted through the thick, abundant forests covering the perimeter of the Western March. His light coffee coloured hair matted to his face, his eyes hard and glazed from lack of sleep and his expression frightfully blank he made a terrifying picture.

Behind him a large entourage of riders fought their way after him, trailing him through the painting of a gazillion types of trees and exotic animals who glanced fearfully, from behind palm leaves and twirling, thin folios as the riders thundered down, destroying everything in their path.

Now Edmund was sure that Queen Swanwhite had been correct in her assumptions. The locals were indeed charm casters, magic weavers, wizards, witches whatever you wanted to assume.

And they were furious.

_Not a very charming combination. _Edmund observed. _Aslan help me. Their wrath is worse than Susan's. At least Susan wasn't shooting bolts of fire in hopes of burning me. What do they think I am? A roast chicken?_

The trees collapsed around them. The animals, mournfully glancing at their destroyed homes, ran to and fro, crying out. Edmund tried his best to avoid the fleeing animals knowing that it would spell trouble for both him and his horse but he was not very successful. His mount neighed, its eyes wild, the depth reflecting the fires that climbed their way up trees and sauntered over the ground.

Then, mercifully, it began to rain. The heavy drops gathered together at his long lashes and when he blinked it appeared as if he were weeping, the droplets weaving down his face. Slowly and gradually the rain increased its piercing intensity and thunder began to roar over the sky followed by the shrill scream of lightening that lit up the dark night with vibrant hues of white.

Edmund glanced over his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes against the stabbing rain, searching for one of the riders.

He saw nothing.

Though he was momentarily surprised, he did not rein in his horse. On the contrary he tugged more, urging the panting mount on and on under the dripping cover of rain. The rain splattered on the ground around him, the thunder and lightening crashed and clashed together even as the sound of the horse's hooves thundered across the forest floor.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a gaping hole that wandered on endlessly. It looked to be a vertical abyss with jagged stone making up its walls and foundations. It took his tired brain a moment to understand that what he was looking at was a cave.

He leaped down from the horse taking care to look around for the riders who were previously following him. Dragging the reins of his horse he willed himself to take one step after the other.

His raven hair was draped across his face, covering his forehead. His clothes clung to his spare, thin form and his horse's glossy mane was plastered to its heaving body. Somehow by some timely miracle, the same miracle which kept both him and Peter alive despite Susan's rants and rages he reached the opening of the cave.

Finally.

Collapsing against the parallel wall of the cave, he rested his head back, closing his eyes. He felt the horse fall down to as its legs gave way and buckled under him. Softly, gently he patted the head of the creature.

'Thank you.' He murmured. The horse managed a silent neigh in response before it folded its head amongst his legs.

He did not know how long he was sitting in the gaping cave, dark and deathly. All he knew was that by the time he opened his eyes he was much more relaxed though his muscles were cramped and his head pounded badly. He glanced around and saw that small ants were crawling up the horse.

It was not breathing.

He was dead.

Darn it! Edmund banged his head against his arms, letting out a silent moan muffled by the scarf around his throat and face.

Oh dear Aslan why? Why?

He was still contemplating on his increasingly miserable luck and misfortune when the sound of voices reached his ears. Immediately he sprang up, as lithe and silent as a panther with all the sleek locks and grace. His ears pricked up and he strained hard to hear what the voices were saying. Whoever the people were they most certainly weren't friends. Trying hard to hear what they were saying he leaned his body slightly, crouched in a predatory move. He only caught snippets of the conversation.

'….saw him enter…..'

The second voice scoffed angrily. '….can't be…..not invisible…..cave isn't…..'

Another person cleared his throat and said in rising, indignant tones: '….to members…..wizards we are…in here…..'

As the tones grew louder and louder so did the words that were exchanged. And some of them were not nice. Not nice at all.

Finally the second person who spoke gruffly with a thick accent that reminded Edmund of the tribes in the North exclaimed: 'Well I say we search this wretched piece of black hole! It's no use going out in this poring train anyway and that weedy, senseless lad can't have one anywhere!'

The leader (at least that was what Edmund assumed he was since his voice was authoritative and arrogant) shot back flatly.

'That weedy, senseless lad is King Edmund of Narnia.'

'Still we can't search for him in this storm. It's useless. So we might as well search this cave.' The third and final person said diplomatically.

Distant footsteps sounded and for one instant Edmund's heart stopped. Hastily he backed away from his position and withdrew into the shadows. They were coming. Now what would he do? His mind was racing like a badger in a cage and he prayed with all his might to Alan to save him.

Helpless and without weapons. No sword to wield, no arrow to shoot, not even a rock to throw.

'It's hopeless.' Edmund thought dejectedly. 'I'm going to die.'

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Susan Pevensie's eyes shot open and she sat up, clutching her linen bed sheets, finely embroidered, her body shivering and covered with sweat. She looked around her with wide eyes expecting to see herself trapped in some damp, dark cave with the enemies encroaching on her, nearer and nearer. Nearer and nearer.

Thud, thud. Startled she looked up, her eyes wide with fear and fright. Her fingers were numb. What was going on? She glanced outside from the huge window on her right side, covering the entire western wall of her room.

Something trickled down, weaving different patterns. Susan looked closer.

It was raining.

Raining heavily.

_Thank you Aslan_. Calming down slightly she leaned back against her bed to Catch her breath. In her head she was rewinding all the events that had occurred in the frightening dream that had besieged her. Slowly it came back to her. It had not been her in the cave. It had been Edmund. Edmund, her younger brother. Edmund, her dear, beloved brother.

Her fingers tightened their hold on the sheets she was holding and her knuckles turned white. Where was Edmund?

He was not at the castle.

That much she was sure. Lucy had told her that morning that Edmund had left to investigate something in the Western Woods. Despite constants protruding and questioning from Susan, she had not managed to extract any further information from Lucy.

Lucy!

Pinching her temples she mentally slapped herself. Lucy would know. After all Lucy was the one who had told her Edmund had left. Throwing the covers off she jumped out of bed and hurried out of the room. Her raven hair was messed curling around her pale, lovely face. She bolted down the hall to Lucy's room, not even bothering to throw over her silk robes. Her nightgown flapped around her legs as she unceremoniously knocked on the wide door.

'Go away!' Came Lucy's blurred voice muffled and thick from heavy sleep. Susan ignored her and continued knocking furiously. Finally the door opened and Lucy's heart shaped face, white and anxious, her eyes puffed peered in from the darkness.

'Susan, tell me, has Edmund's soul taken control over your body to go around the castle knocking at the doors at this witch hour?' She asked peevishly.

'No but Edmund's ghost may very well haunt Cair Paravel soon.' She replied, her tone detached. She glanced at Lucy, her eyes narrowed sharply and her shoulders squared.

Lucy rolled her eyes at her and glared at her elder sister still irritated at being woken up.

'You know, Susan, I think you've finally proved that you truly are Edmund Pevensie's sister. Your mind has been taken over by him as well.'

'Don't be ridiculous!' Susan snapped at her, worry and fear for her brother's safety making her tone sharper than she intended. 'Where is Edmund, by the way?'

'I told you.' Lucy replied crossly. 'I don't know. All I know is that Edmund went to the Western March.'

'Western March?' Susan's breath left her. Lucy seeing her sister's face redden with anger and fury immediately realized her slip of tongue. 'You said he was going to the Western Woods!'

'What difference is there?' Lucy asked, her voice small. Susan turned blazing eyes on her.

'What difference? What difference? Have you gone mad?' She shrieked furiously. 'There is a hell lot of difference between the Western March and Western Woods!'

Lucy stared at her sister, appalled and then, her voice incredulous, she said faintly.

'You just cursed. Susan Pevensie just cursed. Aslan help us! The world is coming to an end!'

'It's not a matter of hilarity, Lucy! Don't you get it?' Susan said. 'You lied to me about where Edmund was. And now he may very well be dead!'

'What?' All traces of sleep left Lucy's face and her face paled. 'Edmund's dead? How? Why? How do you know?'

'No he's not dead.' Susan replied dejectedly as she pushed past Lucy into her room. Slumping on the ruffled bed she rubbed her temples sighing. 'Why did Edmund go to the Western March?'

'He went to search for Vladimar. Or Vladimir' Lucy added almost as an afterthought. 'Oh this is so confusing! Edmund and I found out some information about whoever Peter fought in the North.'

Gradually Lucy told Susan about the late queen's diary where they had found out about a man called Vladimir who had hailed from some village in the North whose people were gifted. She told her about how Edmund had insisted on going there to find out more.

'But, what I don't understand is that how do you know Edmund is dying?'

'I had a dream.' Burying her face in the folds of her night gown, Susan said softly.

'Oh Susan.' Lucy perched down, compassionately hugging her sister. 'It was just a dream. Nothing real. I'm sure Edmund is fine. Dreams are just-'

'No you don't get it!' Susan said violently. 'It was not just a dream. It was…. So real. I know it was a sign from Aslan. He wanted us to know that Edmund was in trouble so that we could help him.'

Lucy stared at her sister, torn between fear for her brother and fear for her elder sister's sanity. She knew this was no joke. Susan never joked and most certainly not about matters like these when a life hung in balance. Over the years since they had been crowned Lucy had witnessed Peter, Edmund and even herself lose it completely. Never had she seen Susan lose her calm, her composed graceful tempo.

Now she was terrified.

'But Su, the Western March is a long way of. Even if Edmund is in danger we can never reach him in time.' Lucy implored settling beside her in a love seat.

'I can try.' Susan glanced at her silently. 'I can try.'

It took Lucy a moment to catch up to what Susan was saying.

'Susan you can't possibly-!'

'I can.' She said quietly and rose to her feet.

Never before had the resemblance between Susan and a tigress defending her cubs had been more striking. The old determined frown on her face was back and she strode out of the room, down the hall and into her own.

Lucy drifted after her to where she was leaning over the desk. A small blade glinted in the darkness and then it was tucked back. Grabbing the bow and arrow that were lying motionlessly in her closet she pulled a velvet cloak which wrapped around her completely, the hood falling over her face.

'Susan please, please think rationally.' Lucy could not believe it that she was saying it to Susan. Susan who was always sensible.

'I am Lucy. That's why I am going.'

'But why you? We can send a search party. We can send Orieus. Why should you go in the middle of the night?'

'Because he is my brother.' Susan said firmly.

'Can I come too?' Lucy asked, her voice pleading, her gaze softer than a spaniel's.

'No.'

The resoluteness in her voice proved that the old logical Susan was back.

'You have to stay here. In case-' Her voice wavered and then she fell silent. 'There will be no need to tell anybody where I am gone, alright? Only Mr. Tumnus and Orieus may know.'

'I-' Lucy bit her lip to keep from protesting. 'Oh alright.'

Pausing ever so slightly Susan bent over her sister and kissed her cheek.

'Be brave.'

'I will.' A small smile spread over Lucy's face which was completely wiped away. 'But Susan how will you find him? He may be anywhere.'

'I will find him, Lucy. I have faith.'

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The echo of footsteps grew louder and louder as the three grew closer. Edmund leaned back, his body pressed against the damp wall of the cave. His heart was beating so loudly, he was sure they could hear it.

_I am doomed. I am doomed_. He thought. _Farewell cruel world_.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the extension of the cave, going deeper into the earth. It was sort of an inner cave, a cave within a cave. He was sure it would extends further, deeper and had lots of hiding places.

The inky darkness issued out from it like a prowling beast. His gaze daring between the advancing shadows of the men and the inner cave, he cautiously took a step back, careful not to make a sound.

Suddenly he remembered how he had done this previously as well. Almost everyday. When England was being bombed by the enemy. All the old instructions came back to him. What to do if you're cornered. How to move quietly and quickly to the nearest underground tunnel. Where to hide, how to escape notice in case the enemy soldiers where after you. The training he had received at the hands of Orieus in all the sword matches, the ruthless battles he had fought against the White Witch and her remnants of her followers.

Edging against the cave wall, he almost slithered slowly towards the inner, trying to keep himself from making any noise. In the dark, his eyes glowed like a cat's and his stalk was similar to one as well.

The beam of lantern filtered forwards and Edmund froze, cursing his luck.

Now what would he do?

Whoever held the lantern, twisted it around so that the light fell directly on Edmund's face. Acting purely on instinct he dropped to the floor, crawling on all fours in a desperate bid to escape. The irregular roof provided millions of shadows to camouflage him. He looked up,.

So close. So close.

Just around the corner.

'Well, well…' The voice of the leader, cool and casual, reached him. Hardly daring to breathe Edmund paused briefly, his eyes wide. 'It looks like our friend just came through here. He sure devilled his horse.'

Relief flew through him like a large, twittering bird of hope. They hadn't found him. Still he didn't risk getting up rather opting for hastening in his crawling.

It was awkward to push himself against the floor with his cloak tangling itself around him. He was sure he felt something moving on his face, tight over his lips. A bug or an insect perhaps. He could not even use his had to swat it away for fear of making a noise to alert the wizards after him.

_Hurry Edmund. You must make haste._

He knew that voice.

He had memorized its quiet, soothing tone by heart.

If he hadn't been running for his life, he would have shot up, startled. But with the key to survival being silence he stayed quiet, hardly daring to breathe.

_Aslan? Is that you?_

There was no noise. Nothing.

Edmund thanked his lucky stars that they were too engrossed in the horse and finding out the mystery behind his _mysterious escape_ to notice the slight, soft sounds he made.

He was almost there. The angled, slanted inner walls were jagged and damper than the outer ones. As soon as he was sure he was out of sight, he leapt up and bolted down not waiting to find out whether they had heard him or not.

He didn't know how long he ran, how long he wove down the endless black hole. He was not sure whether he was being followed or not. The cave seemed never-ending. His muscles were throbbing, his legs were pained from running for so long. But he did not stop.

Finally his sharp warrior eyes detected the faintest traces of light. He was not sure whether it was friend or foe holding that light. He moved forwards like a predator stalking its prey.

As he neared the end, almost collapsing from fatigue and hunger he saw it was neither a friend nor a foe holding the light. It was moonlight and the occasional flash of thunder.

A storm. He shivered. Where was he?

He was still in Narnia, no doubt. The cave had been endlessly long but not so much so as to actually take him out of the _country. _

So then what was this place? Despite his trembling legs and the bitter cold of the howling wind outside he moved forwards. One step. Two.

The suddenly his vision blurred. Everything swam. And then he submitted without a fight to the world of utter, complete and absolute darkness with no trace of light.

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Firstly many apologies for the delay in updating. Since the last update I was stricken by a severe writer's block thus the reason for my lack of update!. Rest assured I haven't stopped writing and fully intend to complete this fanfiction! Many thanks to all who review and to those who so eagerly read the updates! You guys are the only thing that keeps me going!

Secondly this chapter was a sot of background to the last one. So don't be confused.

Thirdly please do put forth your thoughts, comments and criticisms (whichever the case). Please, please REVIEW!

A. L. Potter


	31. To Kill A King

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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'_Wake up, Edmund.'_

Edmund groaned. He did not want to wake up. He wanted to go on sleeping endlessly, forever. His eyelids felt like heavy bolts of metal, tightly screwed and shut, and no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he willed they remained closed. It was impossible to even shift his body into a more comfortable position. And to make things worse his head ached terribly, the throbbing waves of pain weaving throughout his entire body.

'_Edmund, wake up. Do not be so lazy.'_

That voice – he had heard it before. The same comforting voice that spread warmth, a voice that was never raised in disapproval or anger or even maddening fury but a voice that was instantly obeyed without question. It continued to nag Edmund, it's tone slightly amused and as Edmund strained his ears he thought he heard a chuckling growl.

'_Edmund.'_

'Oh, alright.' Edmund muttered. His voice was hoarse as if he hadn't used it for a long, long time. With some effort he opened his eyes and instantly winced. The bright light was almost blinding and he covered his eyes with his hands, feeling very much like a bat flying around in daylight. After some time, as his eyes began to gradually get used to the light, he forced them open, squinting and rubbing them occasionally.

He studied his surroundings. But his awkward position made it impossible to see farther than his own hand. Struggling he rose into a sitting position,. His nerves were queasy, his muscles felt far too light and his back felt as if he had been whipped badly. He glanced down at his clothes and grimaced at the sight.

The tunic he wore was blotched with blood and through the stripped pieces of velvet he saw a festering gash stretching over his chest. Moaning softly he fingered the wound. It looked bad and no doubt felt bad too- that was confirmed as soon as his fingers made contact with the bloodied and bruised skin.

Hissing he withdrew his fingers, his pupils diluting in agony. Oh dear, sweet God what had happened to him? For one stunning moment he feared he had forgotten everything – had lost his memories. But the more he focused, the more came rushing back to him. He remembered fleeing for his life through the bitter storm, the men chasing him viciously, the hidden passage through the cave and finally collapsing, wearied, bitter and tired to bone.

Edmund looked around him. He was surrounded by thick swirling mist, dense fog that caressed his face tenderly, it's touch cold as ice. Now that his sense of feeling came back to him, he realized he was shivering. His clothes were torn and the freezing cold was clear against his bare chest, arms and legs.

Very slowly, so as to not open his wounds again he rose to his feet, somewhat unstably. Hunger and fatigue made him light headed but he was able to maintain his balance.

Then his eyes caught the warm cloak he had been wearing and relief rushed through him. Kneeling down he grasped the smooth cloth and draped it over his shoulders, savouring the warmth. So, he was on some altitude. Probably a cliff or a mountain top judging by the intensity of the fog and the icy temperatures.

The thought depressed him. There was no way he could climb down from an altitude as high as this – not with his wounds, his utter lack of strength, his-

'I see you are well enough to stand, son of Adam.'

Edmund whirled around, mentally praising himself for his ability to turn around so quickly all the while cursing himself for not having a weapon to defend himself – not that he would be able to yield a weapon had he one. An enemy behind him, an enemy probably armed and healthy and –

'So now you consider me your enemy, Edmund?' The voice asked again. He thought he heard the faintest trace of a growl.

And then it struck him. Behind him wasn't an enemy but Aslan himself. Aslan, standing proudly with all his golden glory. Aslan, the Great Lion, his mentor, his protector. Aslan was here.

'Aslan!' He choked out and fell to his feet, glad to give way for his limp body. 'You are here!'

'I am always here.' The Lion replied, a shadow of a smile crossing his kind, wide eyes. 'But now, we have very little time and much to talk about. Do you have enough strength to walk around.'

'Yes, Aslan.' Edmund pushed himself off the ground and stood up, Aslan's presence giving him both strength and resilience.

'Come then. Walk alongside me.'

It was difficult to keep up with Aslan's swift, graceful pace but somehow Edmund managed.

'Where are we, Aslan? Are we in Narnia?'

'No child.' He said solemnly. 'We are far, far away from Narnia and the rest of the world. This is the Isle of the Lion.'

Edmund was quiet for some time. Then the question he had been aching to ask shot out. 'Am I dead?'

'That depends on what you want to believe.' Aslan sighed and stopped suddenly. Edmund who had been too engrossed in studying Aslan's expression paused as well, a second later and saw that they had reached the very end of a hanging cliff. 'You are not dead, child. You have yet to live a very long life- both in Narnia and in your own world. I have brought you here to tell you of a grave danger that shall shatter your family.'

'What?' Edmund asked, his eyes wide. 'But why me, Aslan? Why not Peter or Susan or Lucy?'

'Do not lack faith and confidence in yourself.' Aslan said sternly. 'I have faith in you, Edmund. Do you have faith in yourself?'

'I-Yes, Aslan.' He replied, feeling a rush of warmth and pride.

'Very good.' Aslan paused ever so slightly. 'As I was saying soon, very soon in fact, a tragedy shall occur between you, your siblings and Isabela – one that threatens to tear Narnia's peace and the unity between you all.'

'Don't tell me.' Edmund blurted out, his eyes wide with anxiety and dismay. 'Peter and Lia will kill each other won't they? That's the tragedy, isn't it? Oh dear me-'

He was interrupted by Aslan's warm chuckle. It rang around the cliff, the echo intensified because of the height and mountainous terrain.

'No, Son of Adam. I assure you. Peter and Isabela will not kill each other. Not physically at least. But emotionally and mentally they will strip each other to pieces.'

'They already do so.'

'No. Nothing like this.' A sigh escaped from Aslan's firm jaw. 'Dark and difficult times lie ahead Edmund. I see only misery, heartbreak, terror and pain. Very difficult indeed.'

'But Aslan what problem is it? Surely you can stop it?'

'No one can tamper with fate and destiny, Edmund. No one. Not even myself. Fate runs on it's own accord and destiny plays with all of us according to her mood. I cannot stop fate but I can change or alter it. Not completely.' He added. 'No. Only slightly. And that's why you are here Edmund.'

'What will I do? How will I even know whether it is the great tragedy you are speaking of?'

'You will know. All of you will know. But you, Edmund, you must gather together all your wits, courage and strength to fight against it. Mayhap you will also play a great part in it.'

'What? Me? Aslan what will I do? Tell me now so that I do not do it in the future.' Now Edmund was all but begging, his voice haggard.

'I cannot tell you.' Aslan said with an air of finality. 'All I can tell you is that you will carry a large blame, mainly because of false accusations and the propaganda of your enemies.'

'What will I do, Aslan?' He asked quietly, his voice soft and his face hung slightly.

'A king always knows what to do. As will you, son of Adam. Now it is time for me to go.'

'Already? But you haven't even told me about-'

'I have told you enough. Now you must act on your own. But remember, I shall always be here with you. Always.'

'Where do I go now, Aslan?' Edmund asked, confusion and bewilderment lining his features. 'I don't even know where I am.'

'This is only an illusion. Nothing more. You must wake up in your own world. Your sister Susan is worried for you.'

'Susan?' Edmund exclaimed. 'What is Susan doing here? She was in Cair Paravel last I saw her. Oh no. She's not right beside me is she?'

Aslan nodded, a glint of humour in his eyes.

'Oh No! Aslan! She'll kill me for riding out to the Western March alone!'

'No she won't. She's your sister and she loves you so.'

Taking deep breaths Edmund turned around preparing to leave and bracing himself for Susan's scowling face.

'And Edmund, one more thing. Trust Isabela. And support her against all of Narnia, against your own siblings if the need arises.'

'I will, Aslan. I promise.'

A trace of a smile lingered on the corner of Aslan's mouth and he gave a great roar: the cliff quivered. Edmund felt as if the very wind around his face had been blasted away.

'Go now then, dear one. And remember, I am constantly by your side. All you have to do is look.'

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'Send out a search party to the Western March. I will search around the borders of our estate with six men. I know it is well past midnight and the sun will not rise for at least another six hours but we do not have any other choice. Edmund may well be dead by then.'

Isabela studied Peter's face, shadowy and inky in the faint traces of candle light. His expression was dark and in his eyes she saw, for the first time, fear and terror.

He was desperately worried for Edmund.

Anyone could see that with just one glance at his face.

The soldiers and watchmen gathered around their High King exchanged glances. Some apprehensive, some worried. They were obviously uncomfortable about having to go out in the middle of such a violent storm.

But none of them said anything. Shuffling their feet they stepped out of the room searching for their cloaks and weapons.

As Peter turned away, Isabela heard him mutter under his breath.

'Damn that little scoundrel. He should be tied to the dungeons by hammered nails.'

Isabela smiled, stifling a laugh as she turned her head away. But Peter was too skilled an observer to miss it.

'Anything humorous you would like to share with me, Isabela?' He asked bitingly. 'Perhaps to raise my spirits?'

'No. But I am sure you do, my chivalrous, gallant king.' She shot back sarcastically, trying not to cower under the glare levelled her way. 'Stop that.'

Peter shook his head and turned away from her, his face haggard from sleep. After shuffling through a group of maps on the table he strode out of the room, collecting the ebony cloak that lay on a rocking chair.

In the doorway he stopped, pausing momentarily and said hesitatingly.

'Are you ill, Isabela?'

'Why do you ask?' Isabela asked, quirking an eyebrow.

'It's just that you did not force me to let you go with us…. It's not like you at all. Wait a minute.' He glanced sharply into her bland face. 'You were planning on sneaking out weren't you?'

'Me? As in I?' Isabela asked, her tone indignant. Mentally Isabela cursed herself. How could he read her so easily? 'Why Peter, I would never-'

'Well you would so don't pout up at me.' He remarked smugly. 'Get your warmest cloak.'

'What?'

'Get your cloak.' He said impatiently. 'Unless you are planning on freezing outside.'

'You're letting me come along? Willingly?' Isabela glanced at him through her tilted eyes, surprised. 'Have you gone mad?'

'Are you coming or are you not because i-'

'I'm coming. I'm coming. Hold your horses.' Hastily Isabela stood up and gathered the only hood she could find in the darkness.

'Hold my-' Peter raised his delicate eyebrows. 'A very interesting choice of words.'

'Oh shut up.' She replied irritably. 'Not everyone has your gift for charming, diplomatic speech.'

'You least of all. Pity. I had hoped spending time with me would have increased your vocabulary.' Peter remarked, smirking as both of them strode down the hall to the doors that led outside to the stables. Gently patting a horse that neighed at him, he extended his hand to Isabela. 'My queen, may I assist you on your mount as we go out in search of my dear, royal brother?'

Isabela mock curtsied and batting her eyelashes at her husband said sweetly. 'Why thank you, dear sir.'

Both of them burst out laughing despite the grim situation.

'Ah, Isabela. You truly are a fine young lady.' Peter said with fond approval in his eyes. 'Shall we get going then?'

Isabela jumped on the horse Peter signalled towards, her expression serious. 'I hope Edmund didn't get into too much trouble.'

Peter grimaced, his grin dissolving. 'Knowing Edmund, that is the greatest understatement of the year.'

'But what I don't understand is that why did Edmund leave Cair Paravel? What on earth made him come to the Western March in such haste?' Isabela eyed her husband who was suddenly very interested in his riding boots.

'How should I know?' Peter snapped irritably. 'Now are you planning to go out or not?'

As he turned around to jump on his horse, he thought he heard Isabela mutter.

'What a grumpy old grandpa goat I am married to.'

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Isabela sighed, irritably brushing back her long hair that stuck wetly to her neck.

Almost five hours and still nothing. No Edmund, no Susan, not even some small sign to suggest that they had been here.

Of course there was no proof whether they were even alive at all.

Her mount was almost as sleepy as her and it trudged slowly over the mossy ground. Bitterly hungry achingly tired and soaked to the bone. That was an adept description of their current situation.

Pangs shot through her stomach and she half groaned, forcing herself to sit up straight and look around. All of a sudden the mount gave way to its trembling steps and crashed to the floor. Herself along with it.

Muddy water splashed all over her , ruining the rich velvet cloak she wore and staining her face, hands and riding boots. Cursing lightly she stood up, trying not to topple over on the slippery ground. By now the horse had raised itself to stand up somewhat.

Isabela moved forward gently patting the animal's mane almost as sloppy as her own hair. It's body heaved against her own from the struggle to keep itself upright.

'You've done enough already.' She murmured, her eyes filled with pity. 'Rest. I'll go about on foot. It is no problem.'

Collecting the draping folds of her cloak to keep them from getting more soiled she stepped through giant puddles of water, folding, knotting and unfolding her cloak to seep out the water. To top it all, a cold wind was beginning to blow through the grounds of Peter's estate making her shiver violently. The cloak was no good at all.

It was downright miserable.

For a moment she was tempted to go back, back to the warm house, aback to the comfort of a roaring fire and Heulwen fussing over her. But she wearily rejected the idea.

She would not give anyone, _anyone_ the comfort of calling her a weakling, driven back simply because of a small cold and extraordinarily wretched weather.

The emerald green grass, so well tended by the gardeners, was a great hindrance to her not constantly toppling over. The droplets of rain made it all the more smooth and slippery. Muttering to herself she forced her way through the artificial river covering the red earth of the grounds.

_Oh dear Aslan what have I sold myself to?_

Probably danger, trouble, dilemma and the likes. All the things she was adept at entangling herself in.

As she took another wobbly step, narrowing her eyes to look for any signs of life she heard a _crunch_ sound – the sound of something breaking. Isabela froze.

Straining her ears she paused to listen for the noise should it come again. Several seconds passed and she did not hear it. Probably she had mistaken it for something else.

_Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. _

'Stop!' She cried, catching sigh t of a faint shadowy figure amongst the trees. The figure stopped at her sound, flinching back. Mustering all the strength she had left in her, Isabela called out. 'You are trespassing on a private property. Who are you?'

No answer.

'Answer me!' She shouted, drawing her sword out from the sheathe hanging by her side. 'Who goes there? Answer me or I shall attack you!'

'No…please…' Came a croaking voice. Isabela stared at the dark figures moving toward her. One limping, the other steadying its fellow. 'Help us…..Please….'

Straining her eyes she tried to make out the face of the people.. Suddenly light fell upon the faces of the two intruders.

Lurching forwards, Isabela cried out, her eyes never leaving the faces of the two people. Apparently they recognized her too for one whispered hoarsely.

'Isabela!'

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And…. Another chapter finished, posted and hopefully reviewed by all of you! Keep the comments coming guys, I really appreciate it!

A. L. Potter


	32. Revival

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis.

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'Edmund!' Isabela lurched to her pale, almost ashen faced brother-in-law and the equally weary-eyed Susan who supported him on one side. 'Susan! Whatever happened to you two?'

'We were-' Susan swallowed and moistened her lips as she spoke hoarsely. 'Edmund was attacked on the outskirts of the Western March.'

'When? How? Why?' Isabela asked, the questions shooting out quickly in a flurry.

'Good Heavens, Isabela do you think we know than any better than you do?' Susan snapped peevishly, her eyes puffy and swollen. 'Edmund's badly wounded. He needs healing quickly.'

'Do you have a mount or a horse?' Isabela asked concernedly ignoring Susan's sharp tone. 'I don't think we can move Edmund to the mansion. He'll lose much blood and his wounds may open up again.'

'There's nothing we can do about it. I don't have any mount with me.' Susan said, gritting slightly as she shifted Edmund's weight to a different position. 'If you done with the enquiries…'

She trailed off as Isabela took Edmund other arm, breathing a sigh of relief as more of the weight from Edmund's sagging body shifted to Isabela's slender form.

For such a slim looking girl she was incredibly strong. But then again it was not surprising considering she had grown up with _three_ older brothers. Still she was glad of Isabela's calming presence and strength.

Honestly she sometimes wondered how somebody as skinny as Edmund could weigh so much. Edmund who bore striking resemblance to a scrawny weed, malnourished and underfed despite his obsession with eating any delicious thing that came his way, but he was a weed that was sure to strike you with a poison dagger when your back was turned.

Isabela was talking softly and she asked: 'I'm sorry Lia. I wasn't listening. What were you saying?'

'I was saying that Edmund's wounds don't look too bad. None is festering and they are just deep gashes. I don't think there is any permanent harm. Except perhaps to his ego maybe.'

Susan stared at her Isabela, her eyes almost owlish and then burst into peals of laughter. 'My God, Lia! You are a wonder! I do not know whether to envy Peter or pity him.'

Isabela raised an eyebrow looking slightly bemused. 'It wasn't that funny.'

'Oh yes it was.' Susan replied clutching her side. 'It was simply hilarious.'

'Sometimes I can see how you, Peter, Edmund and Lucy are related. All of you seem to be curiously attracted to losing your wits when you are hurt.' Isabela muttered under her breath.

'What are you doing outside at this time of the night?' Susan asked finally, pushing her messy locks out of her face.

'Why do you think?' Isabela rolled her eyes. 'Obviously we were looking for you two.'

'For us?' Surprise etched Susan's unbelieving voice. 'How did you know we were around here?'

'I have a shrewd suspicion that Peter knew very well where Edmund was going.' Isabela said wryly. 'Besides that Lucy sent one of the talking griffins to give us the message that you had gone out n search for Edmund. She's more clever than we give her credit for, you know. She too suspected the Peter would know where Edmund was.'

Shrugging Isabela glanced through the dark., narrowing her eyes to seek for the bright lights of the mansion. Finally she spotted them, barely visible, cloaked in the night, dripping shadows and inky darkness.

They were still far away. A long distance off.

'How far are we?' Susan asked. Isabela had to strain her ears to decipher her words. How odd her voice sounded! 'I can't see very well.'

'Not very far. We should be able to make it in a short while.' Isabela replied, trying to be as optimistic as possible. Susan fell silent and they stepped through the muddy grounds in unearthly quietness.

After a short while Isabela, engrossed in her concern over the distance and time it would take to reach the mansion, noticed that Susan stopped speaking. Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at her sister-in-law and paused, her eyes widening with anxiety and dismay.

Susan was pale, her face almost bloodless, her eyes feverish and oddly bright in the darkness. She was breathing quietly but Isabela could hear the violent rasps causing her whole body to shudder.

She reached out shaking her.

'Susan, Susan…. Are you alright? Do you feel ill?'

'I…I'm….' Susan raised her fingers to her head. 'I don't feel so well.'

Now Isabela was worried. How would she drag both Susan and Edmund to the mansion?

'So you feel well enough to stand and walk?' she asked, shaking the pale, pretty figure. 'Because otherwise…'

'I think I can.' Susan whispered quietly. But as she stood up, her legs were shaking violently and she was trembling. Suddenly her legs gave way and she collapsed down if not for Isabela's support. She smiled weakly. 'I guess not.'

Isabela mentally slapped herself, cursing her luck lightly. What would she do now? Sighing she placed one arm on Susan's back, securing Susan's arm across her neck. With her other arm, Isabela yanked Edmund to his feet, trying not to hurt him too badly. She tugged at his charred collar forcing his weight on her side.

Now. Now for the walking. Taking a deep breath she took one step, pulling Edmund and Susan with her. It was the wrong move. Entangled together all three of them fell to the ground. Isabela heard a quiet hiss from Edmund. Writhing from under them, she scrambled to her feet.

Concern lined her face as she glanced at Edmund's white face, almost bloodless except for where his head had been cut by the fall. A deep gash cut a startlingly crimson line on his forehead and blood, at least whatever was left of it, dripped down on his cheek and the mossy red ground.

With one hand she lifted his head and with the other pulled out the apricot ribbon tied around her dark hair. Clumsily she tied it around his forehead.

No use. Within seconds the bright colour was tinged red and the overflow began to drip again. Isabela looked around helplessly when she caught sight of the oak tree almost next to her. Its leaves were wide and thick, almost gigantic.

Eagerly she snatched them down, pressing them against Edmund's forehead, almost crushing them against his face. Tearing a piece of cloth from her shirt she tied them together against the deep gash.

The bleeding stopped.

Or at least the seepage stopped.

Now for the next part. How in the world was she going to get the unconscious, wounded Edmund to the mansion with Susan who was nearly as useful as a woollen dummy. Maybe even less. At least the dummy was lighter in weight.

Isabela sighed, staring at both of the lying limply on the mossy ground. It didn't help that they were half soaked in blood, muddy water and crawling dirt. What was she going to do? She could not leave them here to go and search for assistance nor could she yell or scream; the others were on the opposite end. She might as well scream from the Lone Islands.

The result would be the same.

She was alone. Alone, tired and chilled to the bone.

Her eyes scanned the perimeter and the near grounds hoping against hope that somebody would venture this way. Why oh why had Peter given her the lamest, most weary horse in the stables? Inwardly she seethed with rage at her husband calling him a number of very unladylike words.

There was nothing. Not a soul in sight.

Her heart sank and she nearly sank along with it. Maybe she could hide them. In the thicket of trees and bushes. It would be difficult to see find them there. Mentally she slapped herself. This was the stupidest idea in the brain storming history.

Edmund would be proud.

Still it was the only relevant idea in light of the circumstances and she had no choice. Debating between the choice of dragging or hiding her in laws she chose the latter.

Yanking herself back to the present she kneeled down forcing her stiff, numb fingers to move. She did not know how long it took. She did not know how she did it. Aslan, she did not even know what she had doe. She just knew that Edmund and Susan were now sleeping comfortably behind the myrtle bushes so zealously tended by the Narnians, their pale faces hidden with her messy, very un-artistic palm leaf camouflage.

Now no one would find them.

Compelling her jelly-like legs to move she walked cautiously across the length of the grounds, careful not to fall down, praying she would not break any bone. Hours it seemed. Or maybe just a couple of minutes that she finally saw the light closing in, the lights of the lanterns, the lights of the search party. Oh thank Aslan.

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_What in the world?_

Peter nudged the huge mound of leaves that was scattered in the midst of the trees, hiding behind the dark shadows of the forest. His leather covered toe felt nothing. The dark of the night concealed what lay underneath it.

Mentally he debated the wisdom of removing the leaves to see what was underneath. Perhaps it was nothing. Simply a pile of leaves gathered together because of the stormy winds. It could be a coincidence. Perhaps his weary brain was playing with him, toying with his thoughts, vision, doubts, suspicions…

Or it could be a lot of other things. It could be a hazard or danger of some sort. A poisonous animal or maybe some wild creature. It could be a trap. Aslan knew how many enemies he had made.

Countless.

Limitless.

Incalculable.

_Come on Peter. You are a knight_. He chided himself. _A knight and a king. And you have a lot of experience with traps, wild animals, danger and the like. _

Cautiously he extended his hand removing one of the leaves. It peeled off the mound and made a slight crunch sound. Peter let it flutter out of his hand and away out of reach. He fixed his attention back on the mound. One by one the leaves came off, some by Peter's hand, some by the gush of wind. Gradually the mound began to lower and lower taking on an entirely new shape.

Just as he moved another leaf he heard a _crunch_ sound. Looking down he saw that the leaf had not broken or cracked as dry leaves tended to do. It was complete, full and unnaturally smooth. Then what?

Something shot out of the mound gripping Peter's legs. With a snarl he yanked his leg out of the iron grip. Surely, surely it _couldn't_ be…..

It was.

It was a pale hand, gashed out with cuts and bruises. And it was reaching out for him.

In utter panic he scrambled away, . Casting a glance back he saw another hand. One with a more slender, rounded wrist and well-manicured nails.

Peter swore. _Good Heavens above!_ What was going on here? Was it some sort of a zombie attack? Or was it some maniacal sorcerer's spell gone awry?

He was so occupied with his blinding thoughts he did not see the figure to whom the hand belonged rise up, stumbling to keep its balance. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the leaves fall away and acting on pure instinct, the instinct of a warrior, he loosened his sword, pointing it straight at the dirty, muddied figure. He was about to lunge, sword first, but a cranky voice came out to him, hoarse and bemused.

'By the Lion, Peter, it's me!'

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Lucy could not sleep.

No matter which directions he turned in, no matter how many times she paced the room the sleep just would not come. Which was exactly why she was sitting cross legged on the mossy ground of Cair Paravel's masterpiece gardens.

_Edmund. Susan. Peter. Lia. _All of them out there, somewhere perhaps fighting for their lives at this very moment, perhaps bleeding to death…. Lucy's knuckle turned white with the pressure she exerted on it.

It was then she heard the crisp rustling of leaves. Her ears pricked up sharply and she tilted her head slightly, a quizzical frown on her face. For several moments there was no noise. She was about to shrug it off as an animal when she heard a familiar, sultry voice through the thicket.

'Make haste! The moon will be up at it's highest soon! Prepare everything.'

Lucy sprang up from the position she had curled into, concentrating fiercely on the voice, trying to decipher the words which were pitched lower than the initial statement.

'The blood bone, quick!' The same voice that of a female's whispered throatily. 'The feather of phoenix, the milky lapis lazuli and the moonstone. Ah, my beauty!'

The voice was fainter now as if the person had moved away. Quickly Lucy followed, hesitating only a second.

_Curiosity kills_. She chastened herself. _Think of the poor cat._

But the achingly strong tug of curiously would not let her rest. She crouched down, beneath the myrtle bushes, her eyes almost glowing like a cat's.

It was a shadowy dark place; the abundant canopy of the trees provided a welcome cover, she noted. As she surveyed the area, a slender boy covered in velvet bent down and dropped something chanting an incantation under his breath.

Instantly a thin line of fire uncoiled around in a circle, like a snake rising to the tune of a snake dancer.

The firelight illuminated the woman who was standing in the middle, her raven hair floating down her back in fluffy curls. It was too dark to see her face but Lucy saw the fire throw light on her tilted head, lighting up the fine bones.

'Spirits of Old, I beckon thee. I call forth the ghosts of the past; reunite me with the sister's avenger! Arise! Arise to my call!'

_Black magic. _Lucy felt her blood freeze. _She was raising somebody from the dead. She was a sorceress like Jadis. _

'I offer thee this sacrifice, this emblem of power, this crest of the home of the witch! The feather of the golden phoenix, your slayer's symbol. The blood bone of those who died for your name! And this moonstone, one which shall give you your human body for life! Rise!'

The woman turned and Lucy saw her face. Heidi! Lucy felt all the blood drain form her face, her face felt numb.

_I have to get out. I have to get help. I have to get Aslan. Aslan, Aslan please!_ Before she could force herself to move she saw a wispy smoke rise from the fire as it extinguished completely. Heidi reeled back, coughing violently.

The cloudy puffs joined together, assembling into a shape. A shape of a man. A dark haired man who was cloaked in the colours of night.

'Heidi, my child.' The voice was cool, cultured. 'A most excellent job.'

'hank you, father.' She bowed her head before him.

'And you, my brave queen.' It took Lucy a moment to realize he was referring to her.

Run! Run you fool! She screamed mentally. But he was at her side in an instant, hand in red locks.

Forget this. Do not remember. Forget.' He waved his hands and she knew no more.

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I'm back! Who missed me? And so we are moving on with the story! Do review and tell me what you think!

A. L. Potter


	33. Sins of A Brother

**tarwDisclaimer**: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis.

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'While I appreciate your ability to find humour in the most difficult of the situations with your sick sense of hilarity, so you say I definitely do not appreciate it this time.' Peter said icily.

He was standing next to the window bathed in the molten gold rays that streamed through the glass. His hair had lightened to pure gold and his skin was a shade or two paler. Standing there, in the glory of his fury and crowned by a halo of gold, he looked like an avenging angel ready to extend justice.

Except maybe the real angel did not have so furious an expression, blazing in its intensity and icy in its coldness.

'Come on Peter.' Susan rolled her eyes. She was sitting on a round armchair, her long hair woven back into a glossy braid. 'Just let it go.'

Peter shot her such a venomous glare that Isabela marvelled at Susan's ability to not recoil back. If looks could kill, Susan would be lying bloodless on the carpet.

'Shut up, Susan.'

Susan threw him one of her own glowers, her arresting face turning red with rage. Isabela prepared herself for witnessing World War III by covering up her ears. She saw Susan open her mouth to reply but then stop suddenly as if hit at the back of the head.

'Ed!' She shrieked diving forwards to the pale sorry lump of flesh that was named Edmund. 'You're awake!'

'Of course I'm awake.' Edmund said grumblingly. 'You didn't thing I'd let you all off this easily did you?'

Isabela glanced at Peter who seemed, for once, at a loss of words.

'You're alright.' He said simply.

Edmund rolled his eyes, wincing as he shifted slightly.

'Actually I am currently feeling anything _but_ alright. My head is pounding, my back is aching and I feel something horrible sprouting on my shoulder.'

'That's just a gash.' Susan said, her arms still around his neck. 'There are quite a few.'  
Edmund paled, stretching up to see his face in the long mirror that adorned the opposite wall.

'A few?' He wailed. 'A few? I look like a truck just ran me over!'

'Actually a pair of wild horses ran over you.'

'What?'

'I'm joking.' Peter said, leaning against the wall. 'There is a thing called sarcasm which you fail to understand.'

'Is it my fault that you have such a humour-less and unbelievably boring sense of humour? That does it. Next Christmas I'm getting you a dictionary. So that you can look up the term 'humour'.' Edmund said, sitting back amongst the cushioned up pillows. He added. 'Stop staring at me Isabela. I know I'm handsome. Peter will think something scandalous.'

Isabela flushed. 'Edmund Pevensie you are such a-'

'Moron?' Peter finished for her, glowering back at his brother.

'I was going to say wretched owl but moron's good enough.'

'Why I feel ever so wanted.' Edmund said grinning. 'And do stop strangling me Su. I told Aslan this was going to happen but he didn't believe me.'

'You met Aslan?' Isabela asked stunned. Her eyes met Peter's. 'Where? When?'

'Somewhere between the time I died and the time I came back to life.'

'Edmund!'

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Lucy was floating.

There was something tickling her face, something that made her want to sneeze.

She opened her eyes and cringing slightly at the burst of light and looked around.

It was grass.

She sat up straight, momentarily bewildered. What was she doing lying in the back gardens of Cair Paravel?

Her head was aching, small tremors that made her want to retch and her back hurt. Probably from sleeping on the red earth all night long.

The more she thought about why she was here, the more her memory refused to comply. It was as if all her recounts of last night had vanished.

She could remember nothing from the day before.

No not the dy. The night alone.

All she could remember was that she had come out to take some fresh air and calm her worried mind. She had been sitting under the cover of the night, engrossed in her thoughts. And then she had-

A sharp jab sent her mind spiralling. Her whole head vibrated and she shivered, her eyes going out of focus.

When Lucy had been two she had accidently put her fingers in the kitchen socket, dripping wet from the water fight she and Peter had. She had received a shock that had, for a moment, paralyzed her completely.

It was exactly the same now.

Very slowly she raised herself. Her tired body protested fiercely but she ignored it. Gradually the sickening feeling departed and she was able to breathe again.

She was blank.

She could not remember.

It was as if the shock had taken her memory away.

No. No. That was impossible.

'_You know your name, your family, everything about yourself, Lucy.'_ She reminded herself. _'You remember where you were last night. Out in the gardens and you fell asleep. That's right. You just fell asleep_.'

Running a light hand through her fiery hair she stood up languidly, allowing her stiff muscles to relax in the pleasant sensation. The night dress she had been wearing was crumpled; definitely an improper attire for a queen.

Very slowly she walked down the rose-lined pathway that led to the titanic structure that was Cair Paravel. The back door was slightly ajar, leaning out in the open. Awra, the fawn cook, had probably left it open on her way to gather berries.

_Thank you Aslan_. Picking up the flowing material of her dress she sped inside careful to keep her steps light and delicate.

She hid behind one of the intricately designed marble statues as she saw a group of squirrels scatter down the hall chasing an ash-brown acorn.

Breathing a sigh of relief she turned around, stepping back cautiously and keeping a weather eye on the twisting corridors when heard a familiar voice say.

'Why Lucy! Whatever are you doing out here at this time in the morning?'

Mr. Tumnus looked as surprised as his tone indicated. Anxiously his eyes searched her face. 'You aren't hurt, are you?'

'What-no-of course not!' She fumbled for words, her lips breaking into such a fake and bright smile it only increased that awkwardness. 'I just wanted a breath of fresh air. You know- enjoy nature.'

'Oh.' Mr. Tumnus's eyebrows arched high as he tugged at his crimson scarf. 'But I'm sure you can enjoy nature by stepping out in your balcony.'

'Uh…. I wanted to see the apple trees the beavers planted yesterday. The blooming ones by the eastern corner.' She fibbed mentally groping for a better excuse.

If it were possible Mr. Tumnus's eyebrows rose higher, almost disappearing in his curly locks. An uncomfortable silence fell and finally Mr. Tumnus spoke again, his voice disbelieving.

'A year ago.'

'What?'

'They were planted a year ago. Not yesterday, Lucy.' He explained patiently as he shuffled to rearrange his packages. 'And by badgers not beavers.'

'Oh.' A flush spread over her face.

'Do you want to tell me what happened? Perhaps on the way to the kitchen? I really have to tell Awra to add more ginger than garlic in the soup.' He suggested, already scampering down the hallway, his hooves clicking.

'Nothing happened. I was just worried about my siblings.' Lucy said softly following him slowly. 'I hate not knowing anything. What if they are dying? And I won't know about it until its too late.'

'That's not true, Lucy. The two kings and Queen Susan are not alone. They have Aslan watching them, guarding them. He will take care of them.'

'That's not all, Mr. Tumnus.' Lucy hesitated slightly. 'I can't remember what I was doing last night.'

'What do you mean?' He asked her, concern lining his voice. 'I do hope you do not have that human disease. What is it? Amno- no- Ames- no- Anesia?

'Amnesia.' Lucy corrected as they rounded around the corner. 'And no I don't have amnesia. I remember where I was.'

'But you said-'

'I said I don't know what I was _doing_.'

'It's probably just a small memory shortage. Like goldfish. Amazing creatures with an extremely bad memory of course.'

'_Mr_. _Tumnus_.'

'Sorry. Please do go on.'

'I should get back to my rooms. I really have to change.'

'Oh of course but Lucy I-'

'I'll catch you later!' She called back, running hastily to avoid being caught again. 'Don't worry about me.'

'But Lucy-' Mr. Tumnus sighed heavily, thoughtfully rubbing his stubble. 'Be careful.'

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'Stop biting your lip, Peter. It's giving me a headache.'

Edmund leaned against the railing lavishing in the warmth of the sun. It seemed like years since he had been out in the sun.

Artistically he raised the painted tea pot and poured the soothing liquid into the crystal glass he held in the other hand. Scooting a wooden chair by hooking on booted foot around it he sat down.

'Why are _you_ getting a headache?' Peter asked sitting down opposite him. He nodded towards the glass. 'And I wouldn't drink that right now.'

'Why ever not? I-Ow!' Wincing Edmund lowered the glass resentfully rubbing his mouth. 'Why, for the sake of Aslan, is tea so warm?'

'Tea _is_ warm, Edmund.' The corners of Peter's mouth rose in a smile. 'You have to cool it down before drinking. I thought you would know that.'

'Oh shut up. And stop bothering me with your holier-than-thou presence.'

Peter raised his golden eyebrows, his shadowed eyes somehow weary.

'I just wanted to talk to you.'

'You're not the only one brother. Every girl says that to me.'

'I'm sure they do. Probably they want to tell you that you are a horrible listener.'

Edmund glared at his smiling brother. It was difficult to guess who would murder Peter first: Edmund or Isabela.

'Actually they want to compliment my extraordinary looks.

Peter scoffed, carefully tipping back his own tea. 'Yes. Extraordinary in the way that you resemble a hairy monkey with a purple face. They truly are rare.'

'These are bruises!'

'Who was it that attacked you?' Peter asked abruptly. 'Did you know them? Did they look familiar?'

Edmund eyed him warily, his gaze suspicious. Finally he shook his head. 'No. None of them were familiar. They weren't even Narnians or humans. I think they were sorcerers.'

'What do you mean?' Peter sat up, his eyes alert, every muscle of his lean body tensed. 'Sorcerers? I thought they ended when Jadis was killed.'

'I _think_, Peter. I'm not sure. It's only that when I was trying to run through the woods some trees suddenly caught on fire. And balls of light shot around me. I think they were spells. Possibly to kill, maim or stop me.'

'This is a very serious accusation.'

'Stop acting so prissy Peter!" Edmund huffed. 'Accusation my foot! I could have died.'

'Only because you were foolish enough to go there.'

'Sometimes I wonder how Lia manages to live with you. You're impossible!'

'Funny. She says the same thing.'

'That's because it's _true_. You are the most difficult person to live with.'

'She says that too. That's either startlingly coincidental or she talked to you.'

Edmund shrugged grinning.

'Everybody knows. Your fights are a hot topic back home. People are betting on-'

He faltered when he saw Peter's blazing eyes.

'Let me get this correct.' He said in a frighteningly quiet voice. 'People are _betting_ on my relationship with Isabela? And you are involved in it?"

'_Come on_, Peter. It's just a laugh.'

'At my cost. At the cost of my personal life. How can I _'come_ _on'_?'

'I thought you wanted to ask me about what happened?' Edmund asked desperately. 'Aren't you just the least bit curious about what happened to m and why?'

'Actually I'm grateful to those people for forcing some sense into you.' Peter shot back coolly. 'And why are you suddenly so willing to discuss your former predicament?'

'Oh that was just to distract you.' Edmund replied. Suddenly he looked alarmed and when he spoke his tone was so serious that Peter's eyebrows flew in mystification. 'Peter. You don't think this can be related to Vladimar right?'

Peter looked at him sharply, his considering face brooding now. Finally he questioned:

'Is that what you think?'

'I think so. But-' Edmund hesitated. 'Peter you fought him before. Did _you_ notice anything strange about him? You never told any of us about that combat. Was it-'

'I lived to see another day.' Peter's voice was harsh. 'There was nothing more to tell.'

'That's not true. You stayed quiet about it. That was pretty odd.' Edmund noted silently. 'Tell me Peter. Tell me what happened. I believe it is very important somehow.'

Peter sighed and rubbed the upper curve of his nose. His mind was far away, back to the horrendous day of the bloody battle against Vladimar.

'_Surrender and call of your forces. And you'll not be harmed.' Peter told him. Shock coursed through him when he saw Vladimar's sneer. _

'_I shall never surrender. It is you who should, little king.'_

_He raised his hand and his finger twirled themselves as if summoning something. And then Peter felt a blinding pain in his chest as something pierced him. Something sharp, something cold. _

'How did he summon his blade so quickly?' Peter wondered, his eyes glazed over as he tried to recall the events of that day – the day when he had almost died.

_Peter felt his fingers close around his throat. He struggled from flinching and remained lifeless. Vladimar leaned over him and said. _

'_It seems you have lost little king. I suppose Narnia shall be lost now. But don't worry, I'll make sure I capture it and take it for myself. Your siblings shall be grieved greatly from your death and your people shall mourn their great High King. And of course, young Isabela shall be a widow now.' He made a mournful sound, mocking him. Peter felt fury course through him at his words. 'But don't worry. I shall be merciful to them all.'_

_He laughed and raising his head emitted a sound somewhere between a scream, a roar and a laugh. Peter knelt down taking the hilt of his sword and quick as a panther he lunged, not wasting a moment. Rhindon flashed before him in the faint light, glittering and gleaming in a magnificent curve. Vladimar was still laughing in triumph his face wild and feral._

_Rhindon ended it. _

_Vladimar himself did not realize what had happened and he was still laughing, choking over the blood that gargled from his mouth. Finally he understood what had happened and a snarl appeared on his face._

'_I hate you!' he screamed. 'I hate you! You shall not live! Your house shall be destroyed, I swear it! I promise you, you shall die a death more painful than anything!' _

'_But why are you doing this?' Peter asked quietly. 'I do not know you. I have never fought against you.' _

_Death was grasping Vladimar now and his skin was turning inky pale, almost papery white. His expression was of loathing and venomous hate. _

'_You…..you killed my…..my sister.'_

_Peter's eyebrows shot up under his golden bangs. An expression of confusion crossed his face._

'_Your sister?' _

'_Ja…..Ja…..' _

_And he spoke no more. His body glowed black and white and vanished entirely. Peter stared at it vacantly, his expression blank. He tried to stand up but his feet would not allow it and he fell back to the floor._

_The room was spinning around him and the floor had vanished like Vladimar's body. Blind spots dotted across his line of vision and he knew no more. _

His sister.

Vladimar's sister

' _I killed his sister?'_ Peter asked himself. _'I didn't kill his sister. I didn't even kill any woman for Aslan's sake!'_

'Peter?' Edmund's anxious voice drifted up to him, blaring through the serene quiet of his jumbled thoughts. 'I asked you something.'

'Edmund. He said something.' Peter said urgently, trying to make his baffled-faced brother understand.

'Who said what?' Edmund asked scratching his head. 'Honestly Peter sometimes you make no sense whatever!'

'Vladimar, you dimwit!' Peter snapped. 'He said that I killed his sister.'

Silence.

More silence

Edmund's eyes met Peter's over the coffee table, his mouth a perfect shape of 'o', his expression somewhere between bewilderment and disgust.

'You killed his sister?' He shouted standing up carelessly. The tea cup shattered against the floor in an impact that sent hundreds of pieces everywhere. 'You murdered a woman? Why ever did you do that?'

Peter clenched his fists at his sides to keep from slapping him. Sometimes he felt like awarding himself a medal for his self control.

'Edmund I thought you would know me better than that.' He said quietly, detached somehow. 'Obviously I didn't kill his sister. He was mistaken.'

'Oh.' Edmund sat back down. 'Oh. Did he tell you any name? Anything about her? Perhaps we forgot?'

'No, he didn't get a chance. He died without telling me anything.' Peter slumped back. 'You think I haven't thought this over, Ed? I remember all the people whose life's ended by my hand. It's not an easy thing being a murderer.'

'You're not a murderer Peter.'

'I have nightmares.' He said softly, his voice not bitter but somehow terribly weary. 'I see them. All of them. And I see their families cursing me, hating me, desperately desiring to kill me. To you I may not be a murderer. But I am to those whose loved ones I killed.'

'And if you didn't kill them?' Edmund shot back. 'Don't be stupid Peter. They would have killed you if they had a chance. They would have killed Su, Lucy or me. They could have killed Isabela and slaughtered millions of innocents. You had no choice.'

'They had no choice either Ed.'

'Yes they did.' Edmund said fiercely. 'They did. And they chose to fight for the bad ones. They had their own minds to think and to act. Nobody forced them to do anything.'

'I-'

'Tell me Peter.' Edmund looked his elder brother directly in the eyes. 'What would you have done? Let them kill you? Let them kill me, Susan, Lucy and Lia? Let them kill the Narnians? Ravage and plunder our land? Destroy us?'

Peter raised his eyes to meet Edmund's.

Chocolate brown into sea blue.

Brother and brother.

Edmund nearly flinched back. He had never seen Peter's eyes so tormented.

'You had no choice.' He said. 'And everybody knows that.'

Peter bent a long, considering look at him.

'Not everybody. Vladimar certainly didn't.'

'He was mistaken.'

'Funny I believed that too. Right until ten, twenty seconds ago.'

'If he was correct,' Edmund countered, propping himself up. 'Wouldn't he have told you his sister's name? To make to believe him?'

'He said_ Ja_.'

'_Ja?_' Edmund asked incredulously. '_Ja?_ Is he somehow related to the Spanish? Or is it some language spoken only in Vlady-land?'

'J-a, Edmund. They are two letters. 'J' and 'A'. It's pronounced _Ja_.'

'His sister's name was Ja?' Edmund smirked mischievously. 'I can see mommy calling young Vla and Ja into the house for lunch.'

'Aren't you _ever_ serious?'

'Fine, fine.' Edmund pouted. 'Fun-spoiler. Party-pooper.'

'It was just the beginning of a name. He still had to say it completely.'

'Well let's see.' Edmund stroked his chin in a thoughtful manner. 'There's Jane, Janice, Janna, Jamie, Janaica, Janaita and Jackie. Oh and there Jaina from _Star_ _Wars_.'

'Or Jadis.'

'Or Jad-' The humour vanished from Edmund's face. 'No. No, it can't be.'

'It can be.' Peter said crossing his arms over his ribs. 'Why are you denying it?'

'No. No.' Edmund shook his head obstinately. Peter saw a flash of fear in his eyes. 'Jadis didn't have any siblings. She wasn't even human.'

'How do you know? Did you read a personal diary entry of hers when you were enjoying yourself at her palace?'

It had been the wrong thing to say. And Peter regretted it immediately.

Edmund recoiled back, flinching as if Peter had hit him on the face. He spoke out hoarsely. 'Peter, I….'

'I know.' Peter ran a hand through his blond hair. 'I'm sorry, Ed. I didn't mean to say it. It just slipped out.'

'You didn't kill her.' Edmund pointed out after a few seconds of silence. 'Vladimar said you killed his sister. Assuming that Jadis is his sister then it was Aslan who killed her.'

Peter did not reply.

'Peter. If Vladimar was so fond of her that he struggled to avenge her death wouldn't he have supported her in the First Battle of Beruna?'

'I don't know, Ed.' Frustration laced Peter's voice, inching out from every syllable. 'I don't know.'

'Calm that blond head of yours, brother.' Edmund said sharply. 'There's no use in raking your head over something that has finished.'

'Not according to you.' Peter said. At Edmund's look of puzzled inquiry. 'Were you searching for Vladimar or Vladimir?'

A flood of heat enveloped Edmund's pale cheeks in a halo of blush.

'Susan told you?' He asked finally. 'Seeing as Lucy, the only one who knew that, is back at Cair Paravel?'

'It doesn't matter who told me. What matters is that why did you risk your life for it?'

'I thought it was important.' Edmund confessed finally. 'I thought maybe they were somehow inter-related. Connected.'

'Were they?'

'I don't know.'

'You don't know?' The High King's eyebrows shot up. 'So this detour was simply a way for an angst ridden teenager to have fun?'

'Shut up.'

'Oh, so there was something? Will you care to divulge your information to me?'

'What if you're a spy?' Edmund asked crossly. 'I'll ask you a question. And if you can answer it then I'll tell you.'

'I'm not amused, Ed.'

'No. But you will be. Or rather _I _will be.'

'Nothing good can come out of something that amuses _you_.'

'Did you and Isabela have fun on your wedding night?' Leaning forward Edmund sniggered. 'Or any other night?'

The implication of his question was very clear.

'What sort of question is that?' Peter roared, losing his temper. 'Is that any of your business?'

'Well I am eager to see if my nephews and nieces follow up to my example.'

'If you don't stop talking right now Ed, you're going to have to carry your bruises for the next year.' Peter threatened, gritting his teeth.

'I'll take that as a 'no'.' Edmund said in a disappointed voice. 'I was so looking forward to seeing –'

He ducked avoiding a blow that was levelled directly at his face.

'I'll shut up now.'

'That would be most wise.'

'I don't know.' Edmund eyed his brother's hand. 'A man I met told me about a lost diary that was buried somewhere in the forest. I wanted to dig it out but the guards saw me.'

'So it was all for nothing.'

'Nope.' Edmund said cheerfully. 'I did learn that the girls there are very, very pretty.'

This time the blow landed on his head.

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'What now?' Heidi asked leaning back against the sofa, crossing her long legs and staring at the long scratches that looked like claws running down the side of the sofa.

'I'm sorry?' Vladimar asked, smiling delicately over the glass of wine he held in his slender hand. 'I'm sorry dear. But will you repeat that?'

'You're back.' There was something disarmingly frightening about the smile that appeared on Vladimar's face when he heard that. 'Now what do you plan to do?'

'I have many plans, my dear. If one fails I shall try another.'

'One did fail.' Heidi pointed out. She immediately regretted opening her mouth when she saw annoyance cross his face. She swallowed. 'You were killed. I hope your Plan B doesn't end in the same way.'

'Oh no.' Vladimar said mildly. 'And I'm still dead. This is just a corporeal projection of me. Very much like a ghost except of course I have flesh. But that's just magic.'

Heidi did not answer. She still had the gashes on her body from the effort if had taken to bring his _ghostly projection_. She grimaced at the sudden pain that shot through her.

'Despite your irritating lack of faith in me,' He continued. 'I assure you this time I will not fail.'

'How do you know?' Heidi crossed her bangle-clad arms under her ribs. 'What makes you think that you will succeed?'

'Because this time I am better equipped. I have better knowledge. And I learned from my past mistake.'

'I'm sure you did.'

'Don't patronize me, Heidi.'

She flinched at hearing her name roll off his serpentine tongue. It sounded like the vilest, coarsest word he had ever said.

'As I was saying.' He twirled his empty goblet between his fingers with surprising grace and accuracy. 'This time I will not challenge those insolent fools directly.'

'No?'

'No.'

'Then how do you intend to defeat them?'

'By crushing them from within. By destroying the walls that hold them up.'

'You will destroy Cair Paravel?' Heidi asked in bewilderment.

'Stupid, ignorant child.' Heidi marvelled at his calm composure when she knew he was aching to snap her neck. 'Stupid, deaf child. Didn't you hear what I said? I will not take them out directly.'

'But you said...'

'I meant destroying their barriers from within. Making them distrust each other. Destroying their faith in that wretched lion.'

'They love Aslan.' Heidi said. 'They won't ever fall into the ditch you are digging for them.'

'They will. What are they? Teenagers simply? The oldest is perhaps nineteen, twenty…? It's very easy to play with children.'

'Yet these children destroyed the White Witch and her followers.'

'They did, didn't they?' Vladimar asked ruefully. 'They destroyed me too don't you remember? That's why this time we'll play the game their way.'

'I don't understand.'

'I can very well see that. Heidi my dear. Have you ever heard the saying: United we stand, divided we fall?'

'I have. But that's just a fairytale moral.'

'Fairytales are not very different from reality. Bad guys, good guys. War, peace. Witches, wizards. Love, hatred.' A sly smile crept onto his face. 'Only there is never a happily ever after.'

'Are you teaching me literature?'

'I'm teaching you your battle strategy.'

'Which is…'

'Dividing them. Dividing those five. Destroy their close bond in such a way that Narnia itself will be torn apart.'

'How can I do that? They love each other to much. They're too closely connected.'

'Not their High King and his wife.'

Disbelief crossed Heidi's face like a shadow.

'You want me to ruin their marriage?' She shook her head. 'It's already in tatters.'

'On the contrary it's only starting to blossom. It's an ideal time to destroy it.'

'How will it divide Narnia? Of course they will side with their High King! They won't be affected in the slightest.'

'Wrong again. Narnia is very much fond of their High Queen. She's Aslan's chosen one. And for them that pathetic excuse of a lion is everything. It won't be easy to replace her.'

'What about his siblings? The Just King and the Queens will surely support their brother.'

'No they won't.' Vladimar grinned terrifyingly. 'I assure you they won't.'

'How will I do it alone?' Heidi asked, praying desperately that somebody else would be chosen to do this job.

The smirk that came on Vladimar's face sent shivers down her spine.

'My dear, meet Alexander.'

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The longest chapter yet! I have to say I was very disappointed by the number of reviews for the last chapter. My source of encouragement was completely depleted! Come on guys! I don't' care if you just say type one word (depending on your thoughts) but please, please review! Best wishes!

A. L. Potter


	34. Back Home

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

**Author's Note:** Thank you dear reviewers! Your comments are a key figure in encouraging me on! And not to forget the countless other people who read and add this story to their favourites/ story alert lists! You guys are the reason I write on!

_FelipeMarcusThomas: _ Your reviews are a treat to read! Every time I begin a new chapter I keep thinking of how you will receive it! Thank you very much!

_Princess Emma of Narnia_: Your constant reviews, though simple they may be, never fail to bring a smile to my face!

_Alice-Ann Wonderland: _ Hm… Romance? You may get your wish sooner than you expected…

_Reviewer (whose username doesn't appear) _: Your questions are thoroughly thought provoking. That query about why Isabela has to suffer again and again? The answer will be evident very soon. Keep reviewing!

_Myra: _ Very spirited responses! I'm glad to see that you are so passionate about the characters! Peter's character is improving isn't it?

_The Flamer: _ Am I supposed to feel honoured or insulted?

_Kyra3015: _ I hope that I will update at a faster rate from now on! Thank you for the reviews!

The following answers are to those reviewers who haven't reviewed in a looonnnggg time. Come on guys!

_Glamouraj_: I'm glad you love it!

_British Rose 95_: I will absolutely, positively, completely keep continuing this story.

_:_ I fully intend to involve Lucy in more adventures! Thank you for the delightful comments!

Further thanks are extended to _BooksareLove _and_ MyNameisProngs_ and to any other people, I may have regretfully left out, who review and read this story!

**P. S.** Just so you guys are wondering why I am replying to your reviews all of a sudden. It's not because I'm ending the story, it's because you guys make my day!

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'Alexander?' Susan repeated raising an eyebrow in Edmund's direction who returned her look of puzzled enquiry with a careless shrug of his shoulder. Lucy was no better. 'Alexander of Hanwr?'

'Yes indeed, my Queen.' The young man bowed again, his lean body bending in an agile curve as he flashed a disarmingly handsome smile. His soft brown hair was tied back in a small ponytail and his eyes, almond shaped and dark were flashing with a savage humour as if he had told a joke that only he could understand. 'I am Lord Alexander of Hanwr.'

'Where's Hanwr?' Edmund asked keeping his childhood habit of tactlessness. Susan could have slapped him happily and to cover up the awkward moment she interrupted.

'I'm sorry my lord Alexander but as we have been very busy in these last few years we have not paid much attention to the geography of the countries and lands around us.' She said shooting Edmund an exasperated look.

Alexander quirked an eyebrow and spoke in a pleasant voice. 'It is I who apologize, Queen Susan. It is not uncommon for many to not know about Hanwr as it only recently achieved an independent status. It is on the border of Archenland and Calormene.'

'That would explain why we haven't heard about it.' Lucy said flipping back her braided hair casually. 'Have you had a tiring trip, my lord?'

'Not at all, Queen Lucy.' He said shrugging. 'I do enjoy travelling a lot.'

'You are more than welcome to stay with us.' Susan said quickly. 'The least we can do is to offer you lodging, food and water.'

'Your graciousness is as remarkable as your beauty, Queen Susan.'

Behind her Susan could hear Edmund gag and shake his head but she ignored him.

'If you wouldn't mind, Your Majesties, but may I retire for a small while. It has been a long day.'  
'Of course. Mr. Tumnus! Escort Lord Alexander to his chamber.'

'Yes, my lady Susan.' Mr. Tumnus hurried forwards wiping his forehead. For a brief second Susan thought she saw disgust line Alexander's face but the next moment she thought she had imagined it.

'Isn't High King Peter present here? I would have liked to send the king's greetings to him.'

'No. I'm afraid he and High Queen Isabela are away. But they shall return soon. Perhaps after three to four days. Perhaps then you shall meet them.'

'Perhaps.'

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Isabela yawned slightly, her emerald eyes still closed, her fingers reaching out in a fruitless search for the pillow that had last night rested under her head.

It was no where to be found.

She mentally sighed, as she forced her eyes to open. They protested against it and remained tightly closed. She continued prodding the silk covers until her hand met something that was incredibly soft, almost like velvet and equally warm.

That something moved too. Just an inch as it twisted to one side and she felt a sigh brush over her.

Her eyes flew open widening a fraction as she saw that 'the something' was Peter lying elegantly to one side, his lean muscles relaxed, his pale blond hair carelessly messy,

Despite his apparent ease there was something rigid in the way his body was laid almost as if he was fully awake. She was sure that if she sat up, he would too.

It was odd. She had seen all his siblings asleep. All oft hem slept as if they had no care in the world, their faces tender with dream-like quality but Peter slept as if a war was going on outside and he, being the commander, might be called out anytime. As if he was aware of some danger lurking outside.

Perhaps it was because he was the eldest after all.

She shifted slightly; trying to edge away from the warm figure nestled next to her.

She couldn't.

One of his arms was rested lightly on her ribs it a feather-light touch. His face was buried in her hair and her own was resting in the crook of his neck. She could fell his breath tickling her forehead. The comforting scent that always lingered around him drifted off lazily.

And strangely enough she wanted it to go on forever.

The feeling of being protected. The comfort of being loved. All the things she had lost.

_No! _She slapped herself mentally, her thoughts feverish. _Peter doesn't love me. Why should I love him?_

Unbidden his head slipped until her forehead was aligned with his. His eyes, unlike hers, were shut, the eyelids smoothed over and the long lashes unflattering.

It was easier to study his face without having those blue eyes stare back at you. For the first time since her marriage she realized she had never really studied his face before. True he was handsome; she could see other women blushing when he brushed their trembling hands with his lips.

His forehead was wide and smooth, covered by the fall of his blond hair. His nose was gracefully hooked, straight and well-shaped. The cheekbones were prominent and the sunlight playing on his cheeks made them look almost flushed. His whole face was artistically sculptured, the jaw elegantly formed, the mouth a perfect way to keep you awake at night. His hair turned a degree or two lighter in the sun shine. And she realized that since he had come here a slight tan had come over his face. Partially bronzed but still white.

_Oh Aslan. _

Why did she feel this strange, queasy feeling all of a sudden?

Why did the heat rush to her cheeks as she stared at him?

Why? Why? Why?

She had never felt anything like this before.

Why did she feel it now?

It wasn't like she was _in love_ with him.

Right?

She exhaled and edged around slightly trying to get out of his grip. She cursed herself for not having a separate bedroom.

'Isabela…'

Isabela froze the blood rushing out of her face and her lips quivering. _Oh God_….. He was _awake_.

But as she looked up expecting to see his eyes boring down at her mercilessly.

They were closed.

She breathed a sigh of relief. So he dreamed about her? Well that was certainly unexpected and unwelcome. In fact that was wholly welcome. A mischievous smile spread over her face. Now she too had a weapon against him.

This morning wasn't so bad after all…

It seemed her prayers were heard for Peter shifted back, his arm slipping from he ribs in a trail that left fire in its wake. She scrambled away half expecting him to grab her again. Luckily he didn't.

She peeked out of the small gap between the curtains careful not to spread them too far and thereby waking Peter up. It was still early. Perhaps seven in the morning or maybe eight. Or nine.

She wandered down the main stairs, hoping that the fresh air would be able to clean her mind. She found Heulwen down in the kitchen, scolding another servant. The poor, unfortunate person looked so pitiful that Isabela decided to interrupt by hastily announcing her desire for breakfast.

Heulwen raised her thick eyebrows at her young mistress.

'Why are you up so early?' she questioned suspiciously. 'Did you sleep well.'

'Of course I did Heulwen.' Isabela replied hoping that the storm wouldn't break on her. 'I was just hungry.'

'Why didn't you say so, honey? Of course you'll be hungry. You didn't even eat properly last night.'

She could have groaned.

'Heulwen,' she said patiently. 'I want only a slice of bread. That will be all.'

'Nonsense!' Heulwen glowered at her. 'You eat no more than a bird.'

'Well I don't have the appetite of an elephant, you know.' Isabela sat down at the side table set aside for four people, rubbing her head.

'Most people I know do have an appetite of an elephant.'

'You're way too used to Peter and Edmund, Heulwen.'

Heulwen grumbled something under her breath and shaking her large body moved into the kitchen where the thin, weedy man of a cook stirred the porridge. Isabela leaned against the chair, sighing slightly.

'Why the long sigh, sweetness of mine?'

She could have slapped herself. The last person she wanted to see at the moment stood in the doorway, smirking down at her.

'Do you want something?' She asked annoyed.

'Well yes.' Peter said considering. 'I wanted some breakfast. You see that's why I came down. Four scrambled eggs, seven slices of bacon, eight pieces of toast and three glasses of orange juice will do.'

'You'd do well if your breakfast menu could have more influence on your wife's.' Heulwen scowled at him. 'One slice of bread. Hmph! In my time no person, man, woman or child, could leave until they had eaten at least five bowls of porridge.'

'Those were your times Heulwen.' Isabela said finally.

'Aren't you hungry?' At Heulwen's glare, Peter added gently. 'Leave her be Heulwen. If Isabela is not hungry there's nothing you or I can do.'

'Are we leaving for Cair Paravel today?' Isabela questioned reaching for browned bread on the china plate. 'Lucy's getting impatient. She wants us to get 'our lazy selves back to home in a fortnight' as she puts it.'

Instantly Heulwen was in arms. 'No you aren't. You aren't going to leave until you're right healthy.'

'In fact,' Peter stated placidly. 'we're going to leave by noon. It's been too long Heulwen. We have to return one day. Any besides so many treaties and talks are postponed. It simply won't do.'

Heulwen did not answer.

'She's gong to kill you one day.' Isabela whispered to Peter.

'On the contrary I think one day she'll kill you.' Peter smirked. 'But then again we're too dear to her. I'm sure in the end it will be you and I who will end up killing each other.'

Isabela couldn't agree more.

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'I'm glad you're back.' Lucy gushed as she squeezed her sister-in-law. 'I haven't seen you for weeks.'

'I'm sure it wasn't that long, Lu.' Peter teased leaning down to kiss the cheek she turned to him. 'Your maths is getting faulty.'

'Oh?' The youthful queen arched a silken eyebrow. 'Or perhaps the time flew too fast for our happy couple.'

_Happy would be the last word I would use to describe us. _Isabela thought but she put on a forced smile.

'The point is that you are back.' Susan put in mildly sensing the tenseness in the air. 'Did I mention our new guest to you?'

'Guest?' Peter raised his eyebrows in an exact imitation of Lucy. 'You must have had amnesia when you were writing that profoundly long letter to us.'

'Alexander arrived only two days ago.' Susan retorted pushing back her curled hair. Isabela eyed Susan's pink face and suddenly wondered why Susan had seemed so flustered that morning. 'He was very eager to meet you two.'

'Indeed I was.' A smooth voice cut through. Isabela turned around to see a graceful young man walking casually through the hall. His arresting face was open in a wide smile as he bowed smartly and reached for Isabela's hand. 'My lady Isabela, I must apologize for any mistake of speech on my part. Your beauty and charm has rendered me quite speechless. The High King is the luckiest of the men.'

'Indeed I am, Lord Alexander.' Peter said icily, his voice cool. 'You need not state it. It is evident enough.'

Alexander did not seem the least bit disturbed by Peter's tone of voice. 'High King Peter! What an honour to meet you in person!' I am absolutely dumbfounded. The man responsible for the death of Jadis!'

Instantly the atmosphere changed. Peter's cool face turned blank with a frightening intensity. Susan's eyes dropped, her long lashes almost veiling them and two spots of red appeared on her cheeks while Lucy stared at Peter, her face shadowed. It was as if something electrifying had passed through the room leaving them all stunned and silent and Isabela staring at the Pevensies felt oddly left out.

'It was Aslan who killed Jadis. We only helped him.' Edmund interrupted from the doorway. His lean body was angled towards Alexander and there was a dangerous look in his eyes. 'Peter. Lia. I'm glad you're back.'

'Lia?' Alexander questioned, his voice almost resembling a cat's purr. Isabela felt her spine tingle. What was it about the new lord that made her fearful?

'A privilege that only close friends are allowed.' Edmund said smoothly. 'And family of course.'

'Oh. I'll be sure to include myself into your close friends, Lady Isabela. It's fate.'

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Finally our favourite family is back together! But there are still more problems which have to be resolved (if they can be resolved)…. Do check out the full summary for this fanfiction. And of course REVIEW!

A. L. Potter


	35. Seeping Poison

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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Isabela ran a hand through her hair in frustration. It was difficult to keep track of hundreds of zigzagging hallways and corridors that dominated Cair Paravel. Despite the long time she had been here Isabela had no clue where she was.

She was lost.

Isabela turned back, debating whether to turn left or right. _Left._ She finally decided, hurrying her pace slightly. She was turning around the narrow corridor when she saw a long figure standing against the smoothly painted wall.

'My Queen.' Alexander inclined his head and stood upright lazily. 'Quite unexpected to see you here.'

'You're here too, Lord Alexander.' She noted, reminding herself that he was a guest. 'I'm sure you aren't here to look at the artistically painted walls.'

A wintry shadow passed over his face and his eyes narrowed like a predator's .

'You aren't very cordial, my lady.'

'And you aren't very tactful, my lord.'

'At least I try not to be as irritatingly blunt as you seem to be.'

Isabela flushed at his stinging words.

'Excuse me, my lord.' She said her voice stiff and formal. 'I have a task I must attend to.'

She made to move past him, her anger making her quicker but his words made her stop.

'You don't love him do you?'

'Who may I ask are you referring to?' She questioned icily.

'I thought it was very evident.' He smiled to reveal perfectly sharp teeth. 'Your husband.'

'Peter?' Isabela could not believe her ears. 'You shouldn't go around poking your nose in other people's business.'

'I was simply asking…'

'You have no right to.'

'It is interesting to see a couple quarrel against each other. Usually they don't.'

'And you are an expert on marriage problems?' she asked sarcastically.

'I wouldn't say expert.' He said considering. 'Your beauty is beyond perception.'

'Do you say that to every lady you meet?' Isabela asked scornfully, her eyebrows raised.

'No.' Alexander stepped closer to her. Isabela edged back uncomfortably. 'Just you.'

'Oh? Well then I profoundly request you to keep your charming words to yourself, my lord. I have no need for compliments or flattery from you.'

'Every woman desires flattery. No matter where it comes from.'

'I guess I'm not any common woman then.'

'You are correct. You're not ordinary, my queen. You are much higher in every aspect.'

Red spots appeared on Isabela's cheeks and her eyes flashed in anger. Only her upbringing stopped her from slapping him.

'Good day, Lord Alexander.'

Turning on her heel she walked away, feeling his eyes on her back. As she rounded around the next corner she thought she heard him say softly:

'You needn't worry. He doesn't love you either.'

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'Where were you?' Peter asked his silent wife. 'I haven't seen you since the morning.'

'I got lost.' She shrugged her shoulders carelessly.

A faint smile tugged on Peter's lips and he laughed quietly.

'You've been here for such a long time. And you still get lost?'

'Is it my fault if your fortress is a maze of confusion?' She was still angry with her encounter with Alexander that morning.

'You are waspish today, my dear.' He noted, raising his hands in exasperation.

When she did not reply he looked at her in concern his blue eyes clouding over. A sharp frown appeared on his face.

'Isabela?' Tucking his fingers under her chin he raised her eyes to meet his. 'Is something troubling you?'

She stared at him momentarily confused. Finally she shook her head in no.

Peter glanced at her sharply. It was evident she was hiding something from him.

He just didn't know what.

At this stage in their rocky relationship he didn't want to ruin the bond they had built with so much difficulty. So he didn't press her.

'How do you like our guest?' he asked lightly.

Was it his imagination or did Isabela turn a shade whiter and her knuckles tightened?

'I haven't had a chance to talk to him.' Isabela's voice was oddly constricted. 'He _seems_ pleasant enough.'

'I'm surprised that none of us had any knowledge of his native country. Hanwr. Have you heard of it?'

'No.' Biting her lip she looked at him, her green eyes slanting, 'It's strange that nobody has ever heard of Hanwr.'

'He said it was a newly independent state on the border between Archenland and Calormene.'

'Still….it's too odd.'

'I'll write to King Lune. Obviously he would have heard about this new land.' Peter's eyes were troubled as he said this, his voice grave. 'After the recent war, it's difficult to trust people.'

Isabela made a strangled noise form her throat but she didn't comment on it.

'How soon will you write to King Lune?' She asked finally, drawing her knees up to her chin.

'The sooner, the better.'

'Peter…..' Isabela hesitated briefly. 'Do you think that perhaps Alexander is here for something other than a chance for tourism?'

'Tourism?'

'You know recreational activity, visits to scenic, architectural, historical areas….?'

'Why? Do you doubt his motives?' Peter leaned back against the bed. 'Are you suspicious of his reasons for visit?'

'Maybe.'

'That's not an answer.'

'It's the only answer you'll get for the time being.' She scowled at him.

'Isabela….Need you be so sharp tongued?' Peter sighed lightly. 'I'm only concerned for your well being and comfort.'

'You don't love me, do you?'

Peter's face tightened under the shadows that passed over it. His eyes turned cold and he turned his face away.

'Do you truly believe that?' He asked, forcing his voice to remain calm.

'And if I did?'

'I would not be surprised.' He said darkly.

'You didn't answer my question.'

Instead of replying he whipped around and Isabela saw anger, frustration and weariness in his face. He leaned so close to her that their foreheads almost touched.

'Maybe.'

'That's not an answer.' She breathed out, trying to stop her fingers from trembling.

His lips descended on hers with aching intensity and a fierceness that had no gentleness and everything suddenly fell away.

_Dear Aslan…._ _Is this love?_

She did not know how long she stayed that way with Peter's arms around her waist, her own resting on his shoulders but it seemed like ages and when he pulled away she still wanted more.

'It's the only answer you'll get for the time.'

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I know what you're thinking: OMG! OMG! OMG! The world is ending! Peter and Isabela are actually _in love. _And with each other!

Enough with my madness (and Peter and Isabela's) dear readers I am once again terribly sorry for the late update and small chapter. Hopefully the next one will be sooner and longer. But please don't think that I've discontinued it. I will continue this even if it takes me ten years to do it….

Ending on the same note: Review, review, review! Pretty please?

A. L. Potter


	36. The Dark Hour

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does

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She dreamed of blood. Of honey. And a land frozen in ice.

And in the middle of the storm that raged around her. In the midst of the penetrating despair that engulfed her, she saw a golden light.

It was dim at first but with every passing second it grew stronger.

Like the sun rising over a land.

Like spring blooming in winter.

Like peace after war.

The warmth fell on her alabaster pale arms that were stiff with cold. The light illuminated through the fog that was around her and raced through her and for a moment, just one moment, she was surrounded by a halo of gold.

And then it was gone.

It dissolved completely and her exposed arms were left trembling, her body shrouded in shadows and utter darkness.

She was alone.

There was nobody there.

Even Hope had abandoned her. The spirit of Elpis that had sworn never to leave a child of man.

There was no light at the end of the tunnel for her.

No ray of light. No feeling of hope.

Everything was gone. Everyone. All.

Who said life was beautiful?

Who said life was good to those who deserved it?

Wasn't she deserving of it?

Why did she had to suffer? To despair? To grieve? To lose everything she held dear?

Deep down in her heart she knew the answer. It was clear to her, as clear as the water that sprang from the hot springs of Narnia.

It was because she was strong enough to face it. Strong enough to bear it. Strong enough to destroy it.

Because she was a warrior of Aslan.

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Peter laughed at something the lord of Stormhold, Hugh, had just said even though he had not heard it properly.

'And so I said: Who do you think you are, my lord? Threatening someone like me?' Hugh roared with mirth at his own sense of humor. He was a rowdy man, round as a ball with a surface area larger than the crumbling chair he sat on. His skin was a healthy pink and the folds of his chin draped down to his chest.

'How completely foolish of him.' Peter replied automatically. Is eyes followed his wife's slender figure as she twirled around with Edmund who whispered something in her ear. He heard her laugh and shoot back a reply.

Pain shot through him. A pain he didn't recognize. A pain he didn't like.

He couldn't understand her. She was a mystery to him still shrouded in suspense. A lock that he couldn't find the key to. And she drove him crazy at times.

'For Aslan's sake Peter!' Hugh of Stormhold demanded. 'Are you even listening to me?'

'I'm sorry.' Peter said truthfully and averted his gaze. 'What were you saying?'

Hugh looked exasperated and standing there with his huge arms of his hips he made a funny picture.

'This wife of yours, is she kin to Dane of Liriope?'

'Sister.' Peter replied, raising his eyebrows. 'Why?'

'Dane of Liriope had many enemies. It is possible that they are now seeking to take revenge from his sister.'

'From his sister? She is innocent.'

'Not everyone is as noble and honorable as you, my lord king.' Hugh smirked slightly.

'Are you sneering at me?'

'It depends. Are you in a forgiving mood?'

Peter laughed shortly. His eyes were on Hugh's face when he saw Hugh turn white. Frowning, Peter whirled around and swore softly.

Alexander was holding Isabela with a death grip, his arms around her waist and was whispering something in her ear.

Peter thrust his nectar goblet into Hugh's hastily held out paw and stalked across the room to reclaim his wife. He forced himself between Alexander and Isabela and said icily.

'I believe this honor is mine alone.'

'Not for long.' Alexander whispered. 'Not for long, my lord.'

Peter snarled at him, his eyes burning. He would have leapt at Alexander had not Isabela put a hand on his shoulder.

'Don't.' She murmured to him, her voice faint. 'Don't make a scene.'  
Peter threw a glare at her and was about to retort when he saw her tremble on her position and waver slightly. Her face was green and she swayed alarmingly until Peter, catching her by the arm, propelled her out into the balcony ignoring Edmund's soft curses, Susan's concerned enquiries and Lucy's dizzy worries.

'I feel sick.' Isabela said, as she sat down by the balcony, her expression miserable. 'I really do feel sick.'

When Peter did not answer she looked up and sighed wearily.

'Peter. Let it go. Please.'

'No.'

'For Aslan's sake Peter!' Isabela said angrily. 'Stop acting like a child!'

'Do you like Alexander?' he asked abruptly. Isabela stared at him in bewilderment. For a few second there was a complete and utter silence.

'What do you mean?'

'You heard me, Isabela. Now answer me.'

'I…Peter…what is wrong with you?' She nearly shouted at him.

'So you do like him?' Peter's eyes bore into hers with a coldness she had never seen before.

'I don't like him at all.'

'Then what were you doing with him right now? You don't seem too unhappy with it. After all you don't want me harming Alexander, do you?'

Isabela stared at him, her mouth slightly ajar and her eyes wide.

'I don't want you harming someone who has a potential to harm Narnia.' She said quietly. 'He is a guest here. What would the people say if they heard that the High King of Narnia killed his own guest?'

'They would know the truth. That the said guest did not honor the High King's wife.'

'Why are you so angry over it? You never showed any affection to me. Not once have you betrayed something more than the love a brother might show to a sister! You don't even treat me as your wife!' Isabela hissed at him. 'Why should you be concerned over his relationship with me? What with the way you treat me, if I run off with a servant it will be fully justified!'

He had not expected that. Isabela could see. For a moment she saw hurt and pain flash in his eyes and the next moment they were as emotionless as ever.

'You are more than welcome to do that.' He replied icily. 'I don't mind the least.'

Turning around he sauntered back into the ballroom. Isabela saw him whisper something to Susan who nodded back. Never once did he look at her. Never once did he look back.

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Susan hurried down to her room. Her slippers slithered over the marble flooring as she stepped down gracefully. Left and right, she heard greetings sent to her. Smiling warmly she replied back graciously doing her best to remember all the names.

'Greetings, O' the most beautiful woman in all the lands.' Susan knew who spoke even before she turned to look at him.

'Greeting back to you, O' mighty Thunder-Fist.' She teased lightly, messing with Corin's hair who grinned pompously at her. 'What are you doing here, Corin?'

'Oh, Father sent me to give a letter to Peter. He said it was of utmost importance and had to be delivered by me. He would not even let Cor go.'

Susan raised her eyebrows. _It must be a reply from King Lune for Peter._

'Do you have it?'

'I gave it to Mr. Tumnus. He said he would give it to Peter immediately.' Corin's eyes suddenly lit up. 'Is that a boxer glove?'

Before Susan could answer, he ran off leaving her standing in the middle of the room. Shaking her head she continued to her rooms.

The hallway was dimly lit. Someone had probably turned off the lamps. Susan stared at the floor trying to see through the hazy darkness. Her concentration was on what was ahead of her when she heard a low voice from somewhere to her left.

'You do not even care about Peter.' It spat out angrily. Susan frowned. That voice sounded too familiar.

'You don't even know me. How can you say so clearly that I don't care for my husband?'

Her eyes opened wide. That was Isabela. But what could Isabela be doing here? And who was she talking to?

'It is most apparent, you know.'

'Shut up. Why should you even care about my relationship with Peter?'

'Oh but I do.' The man sighed slightly. 'Didn't I tell you that you are the most stunning woman I have ever met.'

'No. I seem to recall myself calling you dozens of bad names some of them very, very ugly.'

'I don't mind, Lady Isabela.'

'Lord Alexander, if you will excuse me I have to meet some guests.'

Susan gasped softly. Alexander? Isabela was meeting with Alexander in a dark hallway? But why?

She backed away, retracing her steps. She should tell Peter.

_No… No... She couldn't. It would destroy all of them. Peter might take a wrong view. I can't. I won't… Oh dear Aslan help_ me…

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'I cannot believe you did that, Alexander.' Heidi crossed her arms over her ribs, a frown on her face. 'You should have been more subtle. The High King will suspect you.'

'But my love, we had d to take some step. The High King doesn't suspect me,' Alexander grinned devilishly. 'He suspects his wife. The rift is already between them. I have only widened it.'

It was midnight and they were out in the windy darkness in the gardens.

'Isabela is not so stupid, Alexander.' Heidi sighed. 'She is too strong and proud to break.'

Alexander leaned back against the pole.

'Are you jealous, Heidi?'

'Why would I be jealous?' She asked defensively. 'I'm only being reasonable and logical.'

'My heart belongs to you alone.' He said quietly. 'I'm only following your lord father's words.'

'Alexander…. Please.'

'We'll soon have control over Narnia. And then you and I can be together…. Narnia shall be ours.'

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No time to waste. So much work to do. And so dear readers I end on the very same note as always, review!

L. Potter


	37. The Last Shred

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does

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Peter leaned against the balcony that arched incredibly low over the Eastern Sea. His sea blue eyes were blood shot and heavily tinged with purple bruises. Against them his pale skin stood out prominently.

He had not slept comfortably for the last several weeks. Neither had most of the occupants in Cair Paravel.

How could it have gotten so wrong? Just a month before he had Isabela had been cordial, almost friendly and he had become hopeful of the future. But now….

Now….

He sighed slightly. It seemed like lifetime's ago that Isabela and he had fought so viciously on the occasion of that ball. And in the time since then neither he nor Isabela had tried to patch up the difference rather their relationship had deteriorated even more.

To such an extent that he now slept in a room on the completely opposite side of the castle. They did their best to avoid each other. Isabela did not even come to the breakfast and dinner when he was there.

He remembered how two days ago when the Calormen dignitaries had visited Narnia Isabela hadn't greeted them along with him. It had been humiliating. But Peter had been more hurt than embarrassed. And when he had knocked on her door she had not answered.

Sometimes he could feel Isabela's eyes on his back, bewildered and angry but when he turned they would be remote, almost haughty and heavily shadowed by her eyelashes.

He cursed himself. And he cursed her. But most of all he cursed Aslan. How could he have brought this on Peter? How could Aslan, the one he loved, the one he adored and admired and trusted, have ruined his and Isabela's lives?

Susan had been quiet since that night too. He wondered briefly why. She did not know of what had happened. But when he talked to her he would see indecision flash in her eyes. He would ask her if she wanted to say something and even though he was sure she desperately wanted to say something, she didn't speak.

It was all so confusing.

He heard a light thread of steps behind him and turning around he saw Heidi.

'My lord Peter.' She greeted him, curtsying gently. 'Queen Susan calls you to lunch.'

'Very well.' Peter said trying to keep his tone light. He turned around and walked towards the door. He felt a hand wrap against his wrist and he turned back, his eyebrows rising.

'You shouldn't grieve, King Peter.' Heidi said softly. 'Not for someone who isn't worth you.'

'I'm sorry?' Peter questioned firmly pulling his hand away. 'I don't understand you, my lady.'

'Oh but you do.' Heidi stepped close to him until their noses were nearly touching. Peter shifted away uncomfortably, his face impassive. 'And, my king, I can help you with it.'

_You can help me by shifting away a little. _Peter thought. He said aloud: 'I believe the Queen Susan will get angry if I do not hurry. Please excuse me.'

He saw Heidi's eyes darken slightly but she smiled coyly and curtsying, she murmured.

'The offer stands, my dear king. Anytime you are willing.'

'That time won't come, Lady Heidi. I'm sorry.' And with that he walked away.

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Isabela settled back on the couch, snuggling amongst the cushions, a book in her hand: _The Emperor Over the Seas._

She tried to focus on the words before her but they were just a blurred image. No matter how much she tried to concentrate she couldn't. It seemed as if her head was about to burst. And it didn't help when she heard someone entering the lounge, sitting across from her and she looked up to see a pair of blue orbs looking attentively at her.

Peter.

Oh joy.

'Good evening, Isabela.' He spoke out cordially, his voice light. 'I trust you are well?'

'I am very well, my king.' She replied. Glancing up she questioned: 'And you?'

'I am as I always am.' Peter shrugged. 'Why did you not come and visit the Calormen officials that came to Narnia?'

'I did not feel like it.' She knew how careless she sounded and how un-Queen-like her response had been but in her present state of misery she did not care what she sounded like.

'You did not feel _like_ it?' Peter repeated a surprised expression on his face. 'Were you ill or tired my lady? Or perhaps you had a headache because of which you did not _feel like it_?'

'You are disturbing me, my king.'

'Much in the same way as you have disturbed me over the past few weeks.' Peter pointed out. 'May I ask what is bothering you?'

'No you may not.'

'Never the less I will ask. What is bothering you Isabela?'

'Right now?' She quirked an eyebrow. 'You.'

That silenced him. He did not speak for a few moments.

Outside, in the darkness of the night, Isabela heard the sound of crickets chirping and toads croaking. Glancing down she began to read the passage written in clear handwriting.

She had barely read a few lines when she felt a shadow loom over her and the next moment the book was snatched from her hands.

'Don't do that!' she snapped angrily reaching for the book but Peter only raised it higher. 'Give me back my book!'

'Get it back yourself, princess.' Peter said teasingly and there was something almost malicious in his mischievous grin. She lunged at him, trying desperately to get the book but his height gave him an unfair edge over her.

'If you wanted to improve your relations with me, Peter, let me inform you that you are completely unsuccessful.' She murmured icily.

'Whoever said I wanted to improve our relations?' He smiled dazzlingly, leaning down. 'And Isabela, let me inform you that I have no shortage of admirers, women ten times as beautiful as you, who would be more than eager to take your place.'

'And let me tell you, my _dear_ king,' Isabela hissed. 'I have no shortage of suitors either.'

'But none of them is a High King, I shall wager?' At her glare, he chuckled. Lightly brushing back the locks that fell in her eyes, he murmured. 'You are such a child Isabela. You easily let your temper get the best of you.'

'As if you are entirely calm and collected, my king.' She shot back sarcastically.

'Why do you hate me so, Isabela?' Peter sighed. 'I have tried again and again to try to change this feeling but every time I have been unsuccessful. How can our marriage work when you don't even speak to me?'

'We never had a marriage, Peter.' Isabela spat. 'Our marriage ended when you claimed that I was having an affair with Alexander.'

'I never said that. I never did.'

'You _implied_ it. And implying is the same as saying.'

'You gave me a reason to imply it Isabela. You yourself spoke in his favor. What was I to believe?'

'Anything!' Peter could have sworn he heard her voice tremble as she rounded at him. 'Anything _but_ that!'

'What would you suspect if you were in my place? Wouldn't you think that I had been cheating on you?' Encouraged by her silence he went on firmly. 'I want us to solve our differences and live together peacefully.'

'The damage is already done, Peter.' Isabela said softly. 'I doubt peace will even come back between us.'

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Peter could have banged his head against the wall.

Everywhere around him papers were spread out. On the desk, on the chair, on the floor. He gave an exasperated sigh and lay back, leaning against the cushion at his back.

'High King Peter?' He heard a hesitant voice say. Looking up Peter's heart sank. It was Heidi.

_Not again_. He thought, jumping to his feet. 'My lady, is something wrong?'

'I didn't feel like sleeping, my king. And I saw the lights here so I came. May I help you with some of the work?'

'No thank you. I'm already finished.'

Heidi looked pointedly at the stacks of paper and smiled charmingly at him.

'My lord father always says that too. I used to help him in the state work.'

_Her father? _Peter thought realizing that he didn't know who her father was or where she was from for that matter. _A stranger then….._

'My lady?' He asked. 'If you do not mind, where are you from?'

Heidi looked at him oddly. 'I am from many places, my king. And at the same time I am from nowhere.'

'Everybody is from somewhere, my lady.' Peter said gently. 'If not your homeland then a place where you belong.'

'Where are you from, Your Majesty?' Heidi asked stepping closer to him. Peter edged back uncomfortably.

'I am from a number of places like you my lady. One of them is of course Narnia.'

'And the other?'

'You ask for my secret but you will not tell me yours.'

'There is no secret to tell but one, Peter.' She leaned closer to him. 'Tell me do you love Isabela?'

'Do you love your soul, my lady?'

'I…'

'Then you have my answer.'

For a moment a terrible expression raced across Heidi's face, savage and angry and half wild. 'But she doesn't love you!' She hissed. 'Why do you love her?'

'How can you speak for someone, my lady?' He asked mildly.

'Because she treats you with contempt and scorn! Whereas I-' She stopped, her face white in fury. '_I_ love you, Peter! I am the one you should be with! Not _her_!'

'Isabela means too much to me, my lady. Even if I mean nothing to her.' He pushed away from her hand that reached up to his face. 'If you will excuse me-'

Heidi stepped in his path and said in a chocked voice.

'I love you too much, Peter. And I will not let you destroy your life for that worthless pile for garbage!'

'You will not insult Isabela that way, my lady.' Peter said, his own voice deadly quiet. He made to walk around her but she clutched his hand tightly, forcing him to turn back. Before he could wrench his hand away she had leaned closer and her lips met his.

Peter's eyes widened slightly but as he pushed her away he heard a slight gasp behind him. Heidi let him go and turning around he saw Isabela, her face a mask of hurt and bewilderment. He saw her emerald eyes blink rapidly and stare at him. He felt his heart clench.

'Isabela.' He lunged towards her, reaching for her. 'Isabela. You do not understand.'

'I understand enough, Peter.' She said quietly. She backed away and rushed out of the door. Peter called after her. Wrenching his hand from Heidi's grip he sprinted after his wife catching up to her beside the corner.

'Isabela, please. You must understand.'

He saw her hand fly at him and the next instant he felt his cheek burning with pain. She had slapped him.

Isabela stared at him and Peter would not forget the expression in her eyes even when he was in his grave.

Underneath the childish confusion he saw sorrow and agonizing pain. He saw anger. He saw grief. But most of all he saw hurt. Raw pain. Something he would never forget.

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The climax is here! Let me know what all of you think! Reviews please! You guys simply HAVE to tell me what you thought about this chapter!

L. Potter


	38. Tears of Sorrow

**Author's Note:** To my dear readers, I apologize greatly for the fact that I took extremely long to update…. What with the pressure of exams I had no time at all. Rest assured I will continue this story so please don't abandon me…. Alright, so I won't keep you any longer… I present to you: the next chapter!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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Isabela lay back heavily, her head aching like anything. Her gown fell in folds around her, cushioning her legs. It had been days since the incident with Peter and Heidi had happened.

She had expected to feel angry, grief-stricken, sorrowful…. But in reality all she felt was an aching emptiness. It steadily grew in her heart until engulfed her whole body. Sometimes she lay shaking in her bed at night wondering why God had chosen her of all people to inflict miseries on.

Her parents gone.

Her brothers gone.

Her sister-in-law gone.

Her home gone.

Her husband gone.

Would anyone ever stay with her? She thought embittered. No. With her past record she knew that nobody would.

She knew now why Peter had thought her to be unfaithful of all people. He himself had been having fun with other women. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't believe anything. Her life was falling apart in shreds around her. Like tinkling shards of glass that crunched to the earth. Like ashes.

Her head throbbed so badly she felt it would burst apart. She scarcely heard the knocks on her door until they became alarmingly vigorous. She removed the hand she had draped over her eyes and looked around. Finally she pinpointed the noise to be coming from the door and called out faintly.

"Come in!"

One of the castle faun's gently opened the door and peeped in, his horns coming in first and then his eyes.

"My queen, a woman wants to speak with you." He said in a squeaky voice, fidgeting nervously with the door handle. At Isabela's questioning glance he said hastily. "She did not want to give her name. She says it is urgent."

Isabela closed her eyes briefly and said: "Send her in."

Her eyes were still closed when she heard the faun go away. Soon there was another knock, a more gentle one, and someone silently entered into the room. Isabela glanced up.

The figure who stood before her was not a woman but a girl barely as old as Isabela with a worn cloak wrapped around her shoulder. Her face was hooded and when she spoke up her voice was tired but still mysterious.

"I have journeyed from far to meet you, Isabela Petrova."

Isabela forced her aching body to stand up. "Who are you?"

The girl threw back her hood and a pale, heart-shaped face floated out at Isabela. The eyes were deep navy blue and had purple bags under them. Her hair was such a light gold that it was almost white.

"I am Siobhan Wolfheart." She said clearly. "And I have come to warn you."

"Warn me?" Isabela asked cautiously. "About what? And why would I believe you when I do not even know you."

Siobhan smiled faintly. "Oh but you do, Your Majesty. Do you remember your final trip to Liriope, after it fell, to visit your brothers? You were accompanied by High King Peter and you had your fortunes told."

"And?" Isabela prompted, gesturing for her to sit down.

"I am that fortune teller." She said simply, perching on the end of the chair with daintiness. "You should remember it. What I foretold is already taking place."

Isabela frowned slightly. "Do not speak in riddles."

Siobhan smiled again. She said in a clear voice that carried far: "Seers often tell riddles. It is our destiny."

Suddenly, like a strike of thunder, Isabela heard the same voice, the same face saying that.

"_What are you talking about? Why speak in riddles?"_

"_Seers often speak in riddles. It is our destiny."_

"You told me something." Isabela said , half dreamily. "You told me about some tree of life…something about it withering."

"I see…great things in store for you. An epic romance shall twirl around you, many trees of life wither and die…..friends…..relatives…..family….. You will lose many and find many….and lose those too. In the end you shall be alone no matter what….but wait…..I still see a flicker, a hope…" Siobhan recited. "That is what I told you. And now I am here to tell you more."

Isabela laughed. "What more can you tell me? My life is already a wreck."

"No it isn't." Siobhan said sharply. "I told you, I saw a flicker of hope and now I know what that hope is."

"There is no hope now." Isabela said dismissively. "You can't give me any hope. All hope I have now is to die soon to be freed from this eternal misery."

"No!" Siobhan said firmly. "No. I see a great life for you, my queen and with that life is tied another one."

"What life? I-" Isabela stopped. She stared at Siobhan, her face colorless. "What did you say?"

Siobhan reached out and turned over Isabela's smooth hands in her own calloused ones. She traced a particular line. "Another life. A new life. A boy."

Isabela stared at her, her heart twisting over. God could not do this to her. Not now. Now when Peter believed she had been unfaithful. He would never consider the child his.

With a cry she wrenched her hand free and stood quivering with tears in her eyes. "You should have known better than to give me such news."

Siobhan stared at her blankly. "But, my lady, a gift, such a beautiful one, from God Himself." She took in Isabela's expression. "Are you not happy?"

"No!" Isabela cried out. "Leave me alone!"

"But, my lady, I have come with a warning." Siobhan started, her eyes wide with fear. "A warning."

"Haven't you given me warning enough?" Isabela hissed, clenching her hands into fists to stop them from quivering.

"My Queen, you have to face an even greater threat in the future. I have seen it and it shall come true soon." Siobhan fixed her eyes on Isabela's. "Cair Paravel is in grave danger."

"Don't worry." Isabela said bitterly. "The High King and his siblings will defend it with their lives."

"No." Siobhan gathered her hood and rose up to face Isabela. "No. _You _will be the one to defend it. Not with your life but with your might, will and power. You shall defend every inch of Cair Paravel with every drop of your blood."

Isabela laughed mirthlessly. "This isn't even my home!" She flung a hand to signal everything around her. "This-this place isn't my home! I was never welcomed here! I shall never belong here! My home is already destroyed! It lies in the ashes of Liriope!"

"No. Your home is Cair Paravel." Siobhan said calmly. "And it is going to be reduced to ashes. And then you will have nowhere to go."

Isabela stared at her and then said quietly. "What do you mean? Hat danger? When will it come? And where will the High King and his siblings be?"

"I do not know the danger very well. I just saw Cair Paravel gloomed in darkness with forces from all sides and-" Siobhan hesitated. "I saw you. Clad in armor and fighting. But I did not see the High King or any one of his siblings. Nor did I see Aslan."

"So you mean to say that everyone will abandon me?"

"I mean to say that you will be alone in the battlefield but on your heel will be your faithful soldiers. If you advance, your people will. If you fall, your people will accept defeat. You must never fall, my queen. Never."

Isabela placed her hand on the back of the chair, exerting so much pressure that the knuckles turned white. Siobhan, taking this as a gesture of dismissal, silently withdrew towards the door.

"I'm so tired." She said hoarsely. "I'm so tired of seeing death, of seeing my loved ones abandon me. Why must I be alone?"

Siobhan glanced back. After a long pause she said: "Because you are a warrior of Aslan, my queen. Never forget that."

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Susan stared at Isabela over her finely painted cup and repeated her words. "You are going to have a child?"

Isabela nodded but did not say anything.

Outside thunder roared as it lit up the sky in hues of electric pink and blue. For a long time Susan stood staring at it and then said: "How do I now that it is my brother's?"

Isabela's hold over her cup loosened and the cup crashed to the floor sending shard s of glass flying into her feet. Pain shot through her but she did not care.

"What?" She asked uncomprehendingly. "What did you say?"

"I said: how do I know that the child is Peter's?" Susan asked patiently.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She clenched her teeth.

"I know about Alexander." Abruptly, Susan put down her cup. "And I have reason to believe that this child is not Peter's but Alexander's."

Isabela inhaled sharply. "You are saying that I was having an affair with Alexander?" She said flatly. "Do you mean to say that? Susan have a little sense!"

"I have enough sense, Isabela." Susan said coldly. Isabela saw anger flashing through her usually gentle blue eyes. "On the night of the ball, I overheard you and Alexander."

"And what?" Isabela hissed. "And what did you hear? Did you hear, perhaps, my declaration of love for him? Or maybe you heard me speaking badly of Peter?"

"No." Now Susan stood up too and both of them were facing each other. " No. But I did hear Alexander's love for you. I heard his words. They were hinting at something much deeper than that."

"It was Alexander who said that!" Isabela screamed, losing her patience. This was too much. Susan? She had loved her like a sister, trusted her. "Not me! Who cares what he said? What matters is what I said! And I never said anything wrong!"

"Your conduct as a queen has been simply appalling." Susan commented icily. "I have heard your words Isabela, time and again. Not on that night but every day. You criticize Peter. You hurt him with your words. You express nothing but scorn and hatred for him."

"And you brother?" Isabela asked, giving a high laugh. "I suppose he has been gentle and sweet with me? Have you heard what he says to me? His cruel words, his taunts, and the pain it caused me. Did you ever see that, Susan?"

"Have you given him a chance to say something else?" Susan retorted.

"You are my sister!" Isabela whispered. "You are at least supposed to believe me."

Susan drew herself up. "I am Peter's sister. Not yours." She said stiffly and turning on her heel she marched out.

Tears pooled in Isabela's eyes and she felt them trying to force their way to her cheeks. But she resolutely forced them back. No. She wouldn't cry. Never again. Never.

"Did I just hear my name being shouted?" An arrogant voice said from behind. Isabela knew that voice and it's owner and she hated them.

She did not know that it was possible to feel this level of hatred. She did not feel this except when Liriope had fallen. But she felt it now. Blood pumped through her. She could not see clearly. All she could see was Alexander's knowing, taunting face.

He had ruined her life.

Technically she was unarmed but she threw herself at him anyways, her finger nails scratching cross his face.

Blood sprouted from his cheek and he gave a howl. She was not done.

They were screaming at one another. Everything bad enough she could call him, she did.

"Lia!" Somebody yelled. "Lia! Lia, stop!"

And it was that same person who pulled her off Alexander, shaking her slightly. She was engulfed in someone's embrace and somebody brushed back her hair, soothingly wiping her face.

Somebody else helped him to place her on her bed, warm and soft. Instead of sinking her face in the covers she found the head board and started hitting her head against it.

Finally they pinned her down, holding her down to stop her from harming herself.

But Isabela knew only one thing. There was no hope for her. None at all.

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Okay so we're approaching the end of the story….. Keep giving me your thoughts and comments…. Please review!

L. Potter

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	39. It All Ends

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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"How dare you Edmund?" Peter hissed, jumping to his feet. "How can you say that?"

"You know why I'm saying that!" Edmund shot back, a venomous glare on his face. "You've gone crazy!"

"Edmund-" Susan interrupted, her expression livid. "Are you actually supporting Isabela against your own brother?"

"And why should I not?" Edmund uttered contemptuously. "You're fools! All of you are!"

"Don't talk to me that way!" Susan snapped, losing her temper. "I'm your sister."

"Isabela is my sister too, Susan." Edmund said softly. "Have you forgotten what Aslan said to us?"

Sitting by the window, head in her hands, Lucy looked up, eyes red-rimmed. "What did he say?"

"He said that we are to unite together if we truly want to defeat evil." Edmund said carefully. "He also told us to take care of Isabela, treat her like a sister."

There was a moment of silence.

"I'm sick of Aslan!" Susan cried out and three pairs of bewildered and shocked eyes turned to her. "He left us in such a mess! Where is he now anyway?"

"Susan!" Peter said quietly. "I will not have you insult Aslan."

"Oh will you have me insult your wife then? She's a liar and a sneak and-"

"Susan!" Peter roared drowning her shrieks. "You will not insult Isabela again within my hearing."

"Oh-?"

"Yes!" Peter cut in. "This business is mine and Isabela's. You have no right to talk about her like that."

Susan stared at him, eyes narrowed and with an angry scowl she turned on her heel and walked away.

"Now Su's mad." Lucy sighed. "I just don't know what's wrong with us."

She threw one last look of sadness to her brothers and left the room after Susan.

Edmund stood breathing hard, staring after Lucy's red mane. All of this was going so wrong. He had never imagined that his siblings would be fighting like jackals over such a trivial matter. He was about to snap at Peter when he twisted around and saw a lone tear slip down his brother's face. Shock coursed through him as swift and sudden as a lightning bolt.

_Peter_ was _crying._ His elder brother. Peter _never_ cried.

Edmund's heart gave a painful tug and he remembered how Peter would comfort him when he used to cry. Those long nights with bombs falling overhead and their father away at war, never knowing whether he was alive or dead. And now when it was Peter's turn to be comforted, Edmund stood there looking like a foolish puppet.

"Peter." He clasped his shoulder. "Peter. Don't cry."

"I tried so hard, Ed." Peter's voice was thick. "I tried so hard to be good but in the end I failed."

"Peter, you are good." It was true. Edmund could have gone down a whole, long list of honorable deeds that made Peter a far better man than Edmund was and loyalty and love was just one of them.

"No. I'm not good at all. I never gave Isabela a chance. I never tried to get along with her. Edmund, I wanted her to be happy. I truly did. But in the end, I made the unhappiest woman in the world."

Not knowing what to say, Edmund stood motionlessly, desperately wishing for someone, anyone to relieve him of this.

"At first I was angry." Peter gave a bitter laugh. "I could not understand why Aslan had ruined my life. But then, I realized that Aslan hadn't ruined my life, he had made it brighter. Isabela is everything I could ask for. But then-"

"But then?" Edmund prompted.

"Alexander." A snarl twisted Peter's handsome face. His eyes darkened and he turned away. "I wanted to exile him but then Isabela-"

Peter stopped abruptly and stood up. "Ed. Go to sleep. It's late."

Edmund stared at him, unnerved by the sudden change in his behavior. "But Peter-"

"Don't argue." Peter's voice was dangerously calm. "I am your elder brother."

And just like that Edmund realized what Peter was doing. It was the same when they were children. If there was a shortage of rationed food, Peter would worry, the others wouldn't even know about it. If their father was wounded Peter knew it and he never let anyone else know. It was his way of protecting others. He always channeled his pain on himself.

"For God's sake Peter!" Edmund shouted, losing his temper. "Let someone share your burdens for you."

"My burdens are mine alone." He said flatly. "Why should somebody else suffer for them? Go. Now."

Recognizing that he was beaten, Edmund stiffly walked out of the room. Outside, he slumped against the cold wall burying his fist in it in an angry punch.

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It was late when Peter slipped out of the room and made his way to the balcony on the highest tower. It had become his refuge since his bitter argument with Isabela. He slept there, under the cloak of shimmering stars, lying there, unblinking as sleep slowly took over.

Moonlight spilled into the quiet hallway as Peter slumped through it. He was tired. Achingly tired of everything. He did not know why Aslan had given him this responsibility. He could not bear it. He was too weak to do so.

Reaching the glass doors that led to the balcony, Peter wrenched them open and they flowed out effortlessly. Shaking his hair out of his face he stepped outside.

All was quiet and then a piercing scream shot through the hallway. Peter jumped up, alarmed, drawing his sword. But there was no one there. Thinking he had imagined the scream, Peter sat down breathing hard. A few moments of silence and then another scream rippled through the hallway.

Although he had not heard that voice for months, he would have identified a hundred miles away.

Isabela.

Peter's throat closed and he ran own the length of the hallway. He didn't know that Isabela had changed her room. Finally, with his keen senses, he detected the door behind which the sound was being emitted. Violently wrenching the door he flew inside, glancing around for the source of the commotion.

He was prepared to confront an enemy but what he was not prepared to confront was Isabela thrashing around in her seven poster bed. He strode over to her bedside and gently tugged her.

"Isabela….Isabela….It's just a nightmare." He said in his best soothing voice. "Wake up."

But Isabela did not wake up. Instead she shouted out again and Peter recognized the same: Lorien. Another scream: James. And another: Dane. It went on and on and in desperation Peter shook her brutally, caring only that she should come out of the dreaded nightmare.

"Isabela!" With a start, she sat up. The slight moonlight that filtered into the room, allowed Peter to see clearly the pallor of her bloodless skin as she looked up, her eyes widening.

"Peter?" She gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"Waking you up." He replied shortly. "You were having a nightmare."

Isabela looked at the veins that traced over the smooth skin of her slender hands, her mind whirring.

What had she been dreaming about?

"It's nothing." She said and looked up at him through her veiled lashes. "You should go to sleep."

Tossing the covers she fell back on the bed but then Peter gripped her arms and propelled her out of the bed.

"You are not going to sleep unless you tell me what you were dreaming about." He said firmly. Isabela rounded on him.

"Where are you taking me? And what business is it of yours what I dream."

"We're going to the balcony." He glanced sideways at her and smiled at her furious expression. "And I'm your husband by the way."

"Of course you re." Isabela mustered as much sarcasm as she possibly could for the heck of it. She could see that Peter knew it by the way he rolled his eyes.

"Glad to know." And steered her towards the glass doors he had stood by just a few seconds earlier.

Outside the stars twinkled down on them, dotting the night sky and illuminating it with small specks of beams that fell here and there. A slight wind blew, rustling up the leaves.

"Is it cold here?" She held up her emerald eyes. "Is it comfortable here?"

"Where?" Peter asked confused.

"Here, of course. You've slept here for the past few weeks. You should know."

For a slight moment, Peter feared that she had lost her mind and he reached out a hand to touch her shoulder. "Are you alright, Isabela?"

She flinched away. "I'm quite fine, thank you." She said pointedly. Color flushed into Peter's face.

"Sit." She indicated the spot next to her and slowly Peter sank to the ground, shaking his head. "What are we doing here? We'll get a cold."

"It was too hot in there. I wanted to go out." Isabela's brilliant green eyes turned on Peter with such an intensity he flinched. "It's so cool out here. You can even see the stars. How bright they look, how beautiful and how _free_."

Peter said nothing.

"I thought I saw my father out in the grounds." Isabela whispered. "My mother, my brothers, Ginevra. They waved at me to come out. I leaned over the balcony and I felt my mother caress my face. I thought I heard her say: "You are coming to us, darling child." I blinked and she was gone."

Dread

"Me too." His eyes shot open and he glanced sideways coursed through Peter and he swiftly turned to Isabela. "What do you mean? Did you really see them?"

"I thought I did." Isabela said softly. "Maybe it was just a dream."

"You've been having these dreams of quite a while." Peter noted quietly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have believed me?" Her eyes glazed over. "And as for me dying, I think you would be happy wouldn't you?"

For a moment Peter imagined Isabela dead. Her small hands clasped over her dead body. Never hearing her voice, never fighting with her. Never watching her from afar, never seeing her brilliant emerald eyes. The fear that shot through him surprised Peter. He felt his heart twist around.

No, he did not hate Isabela. He might not love her but he did care for her. And see was a part of him. A part he treasured, a part he would protect with his own life.

"I would die too."

Isabela blinked owlishly, her expression uncomprehending. "What?"

"I would die too." He repeated curling back against the window, his eyes closed. "I could not bear for you to die."

He expected a sharp reply in return but there was none. Instead Isabela said.

at her.

"I would hate for you to die." She confirmed. "Who would fight with me?"

For the first time in ages Peter was laughing. It felt so good, so exhilarating to laugh freely, to be truly happy. Isabela joined in and both of their faces were flushed with cold and humor by the time they stopped.

"Peter-" Isabela hesitated. Should she tell him or not? Peter looked up at her, his face gentle. "Peter, I-we….."

She trailed off and instead finished. "I've never laughed so much in my life."

Peter laughed. "Me neither. And I live with Edmund, the greatest joker of the century."

Isabela smiled softly. "I wish my brothers were here."

"They're here, you know." Peter told her. "Watching over you, guiding you. No one is dead as long as they are never truly forgotten."

"I never knew you to be so kingly, my dear lord." Isabela teased.

"And I never knew you to be so complimentary." He retorted dryly.

"How very funny."

"That's because it is."

They laughed again. Suddenly both of them fell quiet and the silence was bitterly awkward because both of them were remembering the fights they had previously.

"I'm sorry that we argued." Peter started. "I'm sorry that I said so many awful things to you."

Isabela looked at him. "Why did you do that?"

Peter sighed. "I don't know… I never wanted to get married. It was too much of a responsibility. And I wasn't ready to handle all these responsibilities yet." He smiled wryly. "And I took out all the tension of you."

"I didn't mean those fights." Isabela looked down on her knotted hands. "I meant the incident with Alexander."

Peetr's face dropped and he whitened slightly. "Why do you think?"

Isabela sighed, brushing back her hair. "If I knew that I wouldn't have asked."

"you honestly don't know?" Peter looked at her oddly, his expression queer. "Edmund says it's so obvious but you don't know. He said you would take a lot of convincing."

"What?"

"Nothing, Isabela." Peter turned his head away but Isabela thought she saw a slight glint in his eyes. "I never liked Alexander. And I didn't appreciate you standing up for him."

"What about…..Heidi?" Isabela said hesitatingly, venturing further. "What does she mean to you?"

"Nothing." Peter said truthfully. "I didn't feel anything for her. And that…incident was an accident. I never willingly took part in it. I didn't even understand why she did that."

"Really? You were pretty convincing during that….incident." Isabela said sharply.

"Isabela…." Peter said stiffly. "I don't want us to argue. I just want us to be on good terms again."

"We were never on good terms." Isabela said pointedly. "Do you expect me to forgive you so soon?"

Peter laughed. "You still think that everything was my mistake? Come on, Isabela. Don't deny that you too made my life miserable."

"Comparatively lesser than you made mine." She snapped.

Peter stared at her.

"I don't believe this." He said in a low voice. "I want us to get along and you won't even give it a try?"

"I already gave it my all." Isabel stood up, her voice fading. "And we lost Peter. We lost. Both of us."

And then she was gone. For a long time Peter sat there, staring off in the opposite direction.

_I tried Aslan. I tried. I tried so hard and yet I failed. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry that I wasn't able to fulfill your wishes._

Peter edged back and heard footfalls outside. Pricking his ears he glanced back, careful to avoid drawing Isabela's attention. In the fall of shadows he saw Heidi's face, tense and pale. And then it was gone in a flash as Peter blinked rapidly.

Suddenly, his mind went blank with rage and anger. All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Heidi. Alexander. Both had been visitors to the palace. And both had destroyed Isabela's and his fragile relationship.

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Outside the balcony doors, Heidi leaned back into the shadows and hissed in irritation and annoyance. She could not believe it. All those efforts down the drain.

'_What am I going to do now?'_ And hurried off, her hand clutching a bloodied knife. The hallway was filled with moonlight as she turned sharply and headed into the chambers present in the far left corner.

"What is this?" Heidi asked, holding up the moonstone and the dagger. They gleamed smoothly in the darkness and Alexander's quick eyes caught their luminous beam immediately.

"Why, Heidi, I thought despite your low IQ level you would be able to identify these as a moonstone and a dagger if I'm correct." He sat up. "A _bloodied_ dagger."

Heidi hissed angrily.

He gave her a slanted, mocking look. "Have you been out on a murdering quest."

He jumped as the dagger sailed remarkably close to his face and the moonstone crashed at his feet breaking into millions of pieces.

"On the contrary, what is the meaning of _this_?" Alexander growled. "Do you mean to murder me?"

Heidi stepped up to him, her face level with his and tossing back her wine-red curls she said: "You know full well what this is. You put it there."

Alexander held up his hands and coiled up like a snake.

"Where did I put it?" He asked mockingly.

Heidi's dark eyes snapped like coals in the fire. "You stupid _idiot_. You meant for Isabela to have nightmares but instead she's having a beautiful time."

"Actually I heard some terribly beautiful screams being emitted by an equally lovely lady." Alexander said smoothly. "Do try not to kill me, Heidi. I'd hate to die so young."

"Are you even listening to me?" Heidi screamed throwing her hands around. "You do know what this means don't you?"

Pacing the room, she looked like a prowling jungle cat.

"Vladimar will kill me when he finds out. His plan relies on disagreements and arguments and betrayals and instead we have a happily ever after?"

"We have disagreements everywhere. I heard that the pretty Queen Susan lost her temper with her fool of a brother. And Peter and Edmund are not on very good relations either."

"But Peter and Isabela are patching up."

"Is that jealously over the High King's attention," Alexander murmured silkily. "Or worry over Vladimar's reaction?"

"Of course the second." Heidi snapped. "The only reason I showed any attention to Peter was so that I could tear him and Isabela apart."

"How very selfless of you."

"Shut _up_." She said desperately. "And do you know the faun Tumnus knows that we practice sorcery. He is gifted by Aslan or so the Narnians say."

Alexander snorted. "Of course he is. Aslan? Bah! Riddles and legends and mths and fables the lot of them!"

"But he knows." She cried.

"Then why hasn't he told the monarchs yet?" Alexander asked.

"I do not know." Heidi bit her lip. "All the same it is not safe here anymore. We're of more value to Vladimar alive than dead."

"I am, of course," Alexander snorted. "But you…. Not so much."

"I was the one he sent to Cair Paravel." Heidi said fuming. "I was the one he trusted with this mission."

"And what mission would that be?"

Heidi whipped around, hand coming to her throat as Alexander too rose up.

Good Lord. It was Peter Pevensie, his eyes flashing. And beside him, Edmund Pevensie.

"You know Peter, " Edmund began casually, drawing his blade out, I was thinking that our hospitality is at wit's end."

"It certainly is, Ed." Peter agreed, moving closer to Alexander. " Some people do not know how to appreciate generosity."

Heidi backed away, colliding into the desk which clattered violently. "My lords-"

"What do you think such people are called?" Edmund continued, moving still closer until Alexander too was backed up against Heidi.

"Why traitors, of course." Peter emphasized. "And do you know what punishment traitors get?"

"Especially those who practice sorcery and witchcraft and try to destroy the monarchs?" Edmund questioned, grinning madly. "Why definitely _death_."

"You think you can challenge us?" Alexander hissed, flaring up. "Why I'm the right hand of my liege Vladimar. I am-"

"You are dead meat." Peter snarled and jumped at him. Behind him, Edmund came, lithe as a cat, springing on Alexander's other side and slashing brutally at him."

"You destroyed my family." Peter growled at him. "You made our life hell. You hurt my wife, tried to ruin her with your lies. You-"

Alexander swung away and muttered curses under his breath . Petrified Heidi threw open the door and fled out.

"After her, Ed."

Alexander, too followed, in her wake dodging the brutal hits. They thundered down the castle. Reaching the window sill, Heidi glanced back.

She saw Peter lunge forward with years of warrior training as Alexander collapsed. One arc of the shining blade and she knew that Alexander was dead. Without glancing back a second time she flung herself over and dived, landing effortlessly.

"She dived over the window, Peter!" Edmund yelled. "What do we do now?"

"The trap door." Peter pointed, panting heavily. "Hurry."

Pushing their way through it they rushed down the steps but when they stepped out there was nobody outside.

Heidi was gone.

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"You should talk to Isabela."

It was three days after the fiasco on that night and Edmund was leaning against Peter's desk.

"I will." Peter replied tiredly. "I just don't have enough time."

"Stop making lousy excuses." Edmund said. ""You know what you did was wrong."

"Yes." Peter put the quill down and unfolded to his full eight. "I know I did wrong. And it is for that very reason that I cannot talk to her."

"But you were getting along fine just three days ago." Edmund protested. "You said so yourself that you guys laughed together."

"I don't even know how that happened." Peter admitted. "One day ago we were screaming at each other and the second we are laughing together and the third we're fighting again. I don't understand."

"Well obviously," Edmund rolled his eyes. "You've fallen in love."

"I think I fell in love a long time ago, Ed." Peter shook his head ruefully and Edmund let out a whoop before sinking to the ground, tears of hilarity in his eyes.

"Oh dear Aslan. Did Peter Pevensie, the stuck-up High King Peter who no one dares to question, whose authority is limitless, who never smiles, just admit that he's fallen in love?"

"I do so smile." Peter retorted. "And I'm not stuck up."

"Well I think Isabela would beg to differ." Edmund pointed out, sticking his tongue out. "And so would I."

Peter laughed, lightly slapping Edmund on the back. "Shut up, Ed."

Edmund opened his mouth to reply but at that precise moment, Lucy tumbled into the room, her auburn hair glinting and her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"Guess what? Mr. Tumnus tells me that there has been a sighting of the White Stag!"

"What?" Edmund sat up straighter. "The White Stag, you say?"

"Yes, yes." Lucy said enthusiastically. "Let's go after it. Do hurry up."

Peter shook his head. "Do you really believe that legend, Lu?"

"What legend?" Edmund asked confusedly. "Is there a legend about the White Stag?"

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Oh Ed. It wouldn't hurt to open up some history book once in a while. And yes, Peter, I do believe that the White Stag can grant our any wish."

"The White Stag is a sorcerer?" Edmund yelped. "I thought it was a stag."

"It's a magical stag, Ed." Lucy sighed. "What would you wish for?"

"Why would I want anything?" He asked pompously. "I already have everything."

"Less arrogance." Peter nodded. "That's what you should wish for. And a smaller head and less inflated ego."

Lucy giggled and said softly. "I'd request a chance to meet Aslan. What about you Peter?"

"Why he'd wish for Isabela to love him, of course." Edmund teased. "Yes. I think that's a good wish. White stag, white stag-"

"If you keep on talking, we'll never catch it." Peter said standing up and flourishing his glittering cloak. "Who else is going?"

"Susan. I asked Isabela to go but she says she prefers to stay here."

"Oh."

"Cheer up, Peter." Edmund clapped him on the back. "When we get back Isabela will want to go everywhere with you."

He ducked to avoid the fist that flew at him.

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The emerald green leaves fluttered as the four riders tore past them on their magnificent steeds. The thin slanting rays of sunlight flew here and there specking the forest with light.

"Come on Ed!" Peter laughed as he flew past his brother who scowled at him. Behind him Susan and Lucy exchange gleeful looks as their hair streamed behind them like smooth banners.

"Hurry up, Philip!" Edmund shouted. "We're falling behind."

As his siblings disappeared in the thick greenery, he reined to the stop. "Are you alright, Philip?" He asked concernedly.

"I'm not as young as I used to be, my lord." He snorted tossing back his thick brown mane.

Edmund looked up as he heard the sound of rustling leaves.

"Come on Ed." Susan said loftily, breathing hard.

"Just catching my breath." He said.

"Well that's all we'll catch at this rate." She retorted.

"What did he say again Susan?" Lucy asked, her voice high as she smiled widely.

Susan opened her mouth and in a credible imitation of Edmund's most pompous manner said. "You girls stay back at the castle. I'll get the stag myself."

All of them laughed. Edmund glimpsed Peter throwing his head back and chuckling.

"At least you can support me, Peter." Edmund said in an injured tone.

"Look." Lucy said, pointing to a glowing light.

"What's that?" Peter asked jumping off his horse.

"It's an uncommonly huge firefly." Edmund said sarcastically.

"I've seen it somewhere." Lucy breathed.

"Like a dream." Peter added. "As if I saw it from a dream."

"Or a dream of a dream." Susan breathed out.

Suddenly Lucy jumped up."Spare Oom!"

"What?"

But Lucy was off into the thicket, her red hair bright as the sunset.

"Lucy!" Peter called as Susan muttered. "Not again."

All three of them followed. The braches scratched against their faces as they held up their hands to shield their faces, pushing each other. Peter gritted his teeth as suddenly something soft rubbed against his cheek. "These aren't branches."

Susan thoughtfully fingered one, her face luminous. "They're coats."

Shoving each other, they made their way forward and as they neared the darker end, Peter felt an odd weight on his heart as if he were leaving something behind.

He saw Aslan's golden face and heard him say, rumbling: "What belongs to Narnia, always returns to Narnia."

He caught a glimpse of a pale face shielded with silky black locks. And when that face was raised he saw startling emerald green eyes. This was the last thing he saw before everything went dark and he tumbled out of the closet.

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Outside the gates of Cair Paravel, Vladimar raised his blood red eyes. His expression was filled with savage joy and he breathed in the night air. Behind him stood a huge army of creatures of the dark, humans and sorcerers: some his own, some the remains of Jadis' army. They shuffled silently, gathering around him, waving their weapons in the shadows.

Turning to his them, he called in a clear cold voice: "Breathe this wind. For it is one of victory. Now we conquer Narnia!"

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So my dear readers as you probably guessed we are approaching the end of the story. With regards to the scene between Isabela and Peter, I wanted them to have a finally conversation before Peter went back to his own world. Their relationship remains complex as ever. And yes, Isabela is indeed with a child.

Many apologies for the late update. But since this is the longest chapter yet, it kind of makes up for it.

Please do review this chapter, telling me your thoughts, feelings, any queries, any complaints…. I welcome it all….. So review!

L. Potter.


	40. The Stricken Melody

**Disclaimer:** And so, I write, for the last time in this book, that the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis. I'm merely borrowing some of his characters for this series.

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Helen Pevensie shrugged off her mustard-colored coat, well fitted and warm, pulling the woolen gloves off her slender hands. She hung it on the steel hook, careful not to tear it in the process. Rubbing her hands together she made her way down the hall, pausing by the mirror hanging solitary with a wooden table beneath it set with a palette of colorful tulips, arranged by her eldest daughter Susan…

Helen smiled fondly, touching them briefly. Her eyes fell on the pale white envelope lying beside it. Her heart beat quickening she took it, hastily slicing open the blue seal. The paper fell out, fluttering to the ground as Helen dived to catch it, her auburn curls flouncing.

She straightened it, running her hands over it several times before her eyes scanned it, taking in each and every detail. A wide smile appeared on her face as she saw the crooked, untidy writing of her husband.

_My dear, sweet Helen, _

_I do hope that you are Helen. And not Edmund, Peter, Susan or Lucy…. But if you are I send you my hugs and utter love._

_I write to you in the hope that you are well and that the children are in good health and spirits. I am afraid I could not make it for Lucy's birthday. Please tell her that I apologize heartedly and wish her unlimited happiness in life. She deserves so much…._

_The war still continues and I can scarcely write it on paper. The horrors of war are something that needs great bravery to be seen let alone described. Besides it is best that I do not trouble you with my exaggerated pains. I believe the war will end soon and the real fighting will begin afterwards when all of us pick up the shattered pieces of our lives. I fear that day…. It is ironic you must think that I, who has served in the army for five years now should fear normal life. The truth is that when you live a life of bloodshed and bullets and cannons and death and screams you become so used to it that you begin to fear real life…. Do not mistake it for the fact that I am a mental retard. I am affronted if you think so!_

_I do hope that you are well and not hiding anything from me. Sometimes I feel the vagueness in your letters, your aloofness….. Is something bothering you? You do know that I am always there for you….even if I am a thousand miles away. _

_I am also worried about the kids. The day before yesterday I received both Peter's and Susan's letters and the younger ones's reached me just yesterday. I was surprised to see Edmund's letter. He usually doesn't write…. He thinks that I left on purpose. But yesterday his letters contained….. I am embarrassed to say it…. Such words of wisdom that I myself could not fathom. I felt as if our roles were reversed… His and mine… Or rather Peter's and mine. Peter had grown so much since I last saw him. I can feel it in his words. He acts like… well like a king with such fine regal air. His letters are to the point, written with great diplomacy but still affectionate…. Susan's letters are loving and deep and sophisticated. She seems like a mother… And Lucy…. Little Lucy… No longer little… She seems like an adorable matron….. Don't be scandalised! I am laughing as I write this you know? Sometimes I think that the war has made our children grown ups. They seem like a family in their own right. I feel left out, ignored. You still are very near to them and so you may not feel so….. Peter is like a father, Susan a mother, Edmund an elder brother and Lucy an elder sister. You and I are…. well….._

_I must have left you in deep thought. You must have that brooding grim expression on your face. Smile Helen! Smile… You look like Helen of Troy when you do so… Sometimes I think that is how your late father named you…. And stop blushing….. I do miss you…. More than you can realize._

_Love, _

_Jeremy_

Helen frowned as she folded up the letter, her cheeks indeed radiating heat like Jeremy had said. It seemed as if Jeremy had poured _her _heart onto paper. They were her own worries. Peter, Susan, Edmund, Lucy….. Grown ups in the form of children.

They did not deserve this. She wanted them to be as carefree as the other children. Just yesterday, as she had been late in coming home, Peter and Edmund had went out to cut a tree for Christmas and by the time she had returned it was stationed there in the middle of the dining room, tall and stately, its green fir gracefully curling around. The smell of home made cookies rose around and upon opening the fridge she had seen perhaps a two dozen cookies baked for tomorrow. Then this morning they had assisted her in decorating it. They were not aloof or cold or icy or blank. They were still her warm, friendly children. But it was she who felt left out. They discussed different topics amongst themselves and supported each other.

Edmund…. Edmund was perhaps the greatest mystery. Previously he had been pure miserable, rude and downright unkind. He had teased Lucy to tears, he still teased her but not in that harsh way. He was more of a gentleman, kind and sober and mischievous. He had been completely changed from his previous form and now assisted Helen in all the household chores…. Despite what his friends said…

Peter. Peter had always been the leader amongst them but now they looked up to him as more than just a leader but as a… king…. As Jeremy had said. Susan always asked him as to whether she should reply to the letters sent by their father, their uncles and aunts or any of their family. Lucy always looked to him for support, sleeping next to him when she was afraid. And Edmund would always support him, taking his back. His eyes were not of a child, they were still the pure blue that made girls swoon but they were more elderly, intelligent and grave. And he seldom spoke much. It was as if he had lost a loved one…

Susan. Lady Susan… The compassionate, caring, strict one. She presided over the table when Helen was absent. She was the silent mother, the shadow carrying a blade of unbreakable metal that would defend her loved ones. She woke Peter, Edmund and Lucy up on holidays, set the table for them, called them to breakfast, and assisted in making the eggs, toast and orange juice. She who remembered that Lucy loved sweet butter on her toast, that Edmund adored a bar of chocolate, though she always complained how it made him extra hyper, and that Peter wanted sour cream with French toast. Things she herself had forgotten in the years they had been apart. She struggled to remember but there was no need. Susan saw to it that they were remembered.

Lucy's beautiful smile came to her mind. Lucy; sweet, innocent, gullible, adorable little doll she was. But a doll of strength, bravery and courage. Helen was stunned by the wisdom in her youngest daughter's innocent, doe-like eyes. It was odd, even frightening to see the sophistication that a girl her age should not possess. Lucy was a carefree soul who loved and was loved. Yet she bore herself with a dignity, that rivaled that of Susan's, whose grace and elegance was slightly more regal and refined. She was terribly close to her siblings now. She had always been so. But the difference was that before she had gone to the Professor's house she had always comforted herself in Helen's warm arms, ached for Helen's embrace, dried her tears on her mother's dress. Now she ran into Peter's arms, ached for Susan's embrace and dried her tears on Edmund's cloak. And they let her, comforting her by softly murmured words, by running their hands through her fiery ringlets, by hugging her fiercely a protective glow in the eyes, by soothing back her brow or by surrounding her like a shield.

The relationship between them had dramatically changed. The small, cozy house had been rocked by quarrel after quarrel. Susan bickering with Peter, the elder always replying back hotly, Lucy sobbing up the house as Edmund tugged at her curls, Edmund shouting at his siblings, she herself scolding her children heartily and her own harmless clashes with Jeremy. Now the house sat as quietly and silently as an old maid, a dull matron who sometimes, but not often, burst forth with severe fighting.

Of course Susan would not sit by silently if Edmund replaced her shampoo with honey and cream.

But it was not the same. Sighing Helen made her way to her bedroom upstairs. She trudged up, as subtle as a mouse, but not silent enough apparently. The door to Edmund's room opened and he strode out, smiling as he embraced his mother, kissing her cheek. Helen stared up at his pale, freckled face in amazement.

'Admiring my striking good looks, Mum?' He teased playfully.

'Oh don't be so arrogant, Ed.' Susan huffed, her long hair pulled back into a ponytail that swayed behind her, as she shoved him aside to briefly hug her mother in welcome. 'Honestly, you need to-'

'I know, I know.' Edmund interrupted scowling. 'I need to lower my self absorbed, naughty and misbehaving self's complacency, conceit and sky high pride, right?'

'Oh Ed, Susan's long list of difficult, un-simple and highly un-understandable words was enough for us all to last an era. Not you too.' Peter said sardonically, his blond hair tousled wildly as he kneeled low to hug his much shorter mother.

Susan turned on his, a furious, venom filled glare on her face and her tongue ready to crack like a whiplash. Only the timely arrival of his sweet juvenile sister saved Peter from the terror of his elder sister's long, long lectures.

'Mama!' She exclaimed. Helen tenderly gathered her in her arms, pushing back her rowdy curls. 'You're back!'

'Indeed I am, sweeting.' Helen buried her face in Lucy's eternally warm locks, fingering them as if they were a long lost treasure. 'Why are you up so early?'

'It's eight in the morning, mama! You call that early?!' Lucy asked, jumping around eagerly. She bounced over to Peter's side, taking his long-fingered, graceful hand in her own. 'We were just going to go buy the groceries for tomorrow.'

'Groceries?' Helen repeated the word as if it was a foreign, alien one. 'But why?'

'It's Christmas Eve.' Susan put in, her tone patient. 'The stores will be closed tomorrow.'

'All of you are going?' Helen cast a stern glance at them. 'Why all four?'

'To protect each other. Haven't you heard, mum, there's safety in numbers.' Winking Edmund proceeded out of the hallway, his navy blue scarf wrapped around his neck in layers and loops. He looked like a cuddly bear moving through the hall, grumbling under his breath about how his elder sister had eyes sharper than a hawk's. Laughing Peter scooped up Lucy and followed him out leaving Helen to stare after them, feeling immensely desolate and lonely.

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"No sign of them, my lady."

Isabela glanced up, her bright eyes clouded and surrounded by deep purple shadows.

"I thought not." She said softly. Mr. Tumnus looked up at her, his eyes red-rimmed. "The prophecy came true after all."

"My lady?"

With tremendous effort, Isabela smiled slightly. "Nothing, dear sir. Only the mumbling of a confused person."

"My queen, I'm so sorry." Mr. Tumnus sobbed, holding up a bright red handkerchief and blowing noisily into it. "I looked in every inch of the Western Wood but I found no sign of them."

"That's because their journey is over. Their duty has been fulfilled," Isabela looked up, determination glinting in her eyes. "And now it is time to fulfill mine."

"My lady?"

"Mr. Tumnus," Isabela got up and walked up to him, tall and slender. "Narnia is soon going to face a serious threat."

"What threat?" Mr. Tumnus asked confused. "I-"

"An enemy." Isabela answered. "A deadly enemy. Aslan warned me of this beforehand. With the High King and his siblings gone, it is up to us to defend Cair Paravel."

"But, my lady. How-" Mr. Tumnus began bleakly. "How can we?"

"What do you mean how?" Isabela stopped pacing and looked at him. "We have the finest warriors, the best weapons. We have faith and loyalty and love and these qualities are more important than anything else."

Mr. Tumnus hesitated.

"Do you doubt me?" She asked. _No_. He wanted to say. _I doubt myself._

Taking a deep breath, he said. "You are our High Queen, my lady. None of us will abandon you. I trust you and I will stay with you until the very end."

Isabela's set shoulders relaxed visibly.

"Thank you, Mr. Tumnus." She said softly, nodding her head."Organize a meeting in the Hall. I want everyone to be present there. Now, Narnia's at war."

He nodded, bowing low and scurried out of the room, turning back at the doorway to look at Isablea.

She stood by the window sill, crowned in the moonlight. Her face was pale but underneath the strain he saw the fierceness and fighting spirit. And at that moment, he felt as if he was watching, not a young girl but Aslan's greatest warrior get ready for war. The admiration he had felt for the other kings and queens was nothing compared to that which he felt for Narnia's one and only High Queen.

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Every pair of eyes, old and young, bright and dull, present in the Great Hall of Cair Paravel, darted between the empty thrones that crowned the hall. Fear and suspicion hung in the air and despite their calm demeanor, the Narnians stood quietly.

Their gazes were dragged away from the thrones as the High Queen entered, followed by the mighty Orieus and a slender Mr. Tumnus. The silence grew so severe that even a falling droplet of water could be heard.

Isabela's long hair was pulled back smoothly leaving her face, pale and haggard, clearly visible. On her head rested the glinting crown on Queen Helen which marked her as the monarch. She walked gracefully between the aisles until she reached the thrones, her back straight, her face wiped of all emotion.

Once there she turned, her flowing gown rippling and stared ahead, her bright green eyes glittering like a dragon's.

She raised her hands and as if hypnotized everyone stared straight at her, entranced and unable to look away.

"I have gathered you tonight," She began in a clear voice that carried to the end of the hall. "to inform you of Narnia's precarious position. There is no need to panic." She added as the Narnians looked at each other uneasily. "I will not lie to you. What I tell you is the truth and if you want to hear it then do."

She paused. "The High King and his siblings are gone."

Immediately there was an immediate uproar and agonized cries, denials and shouts rang everywhere.

"Where?" A badger asked squeakily. "Why?"

"How did this happen?" One of the ash gray centaurs demanded.

Calmly, Isabela held up her hands for silence. "It was time for them to return to their own world. They were not meant to stay here indefinitely. What matters now is that they are gone and Narnia is in great danger."

No cries now. No one spoke. No one even moved.

"You are all aware that recently the High King waged a battle against giants in the North. It was widely speculated that these giants were accompanied by magicians, sorcerers who wielded magic as their weapon. That is true." She continued in the stunned silence. "And now they are going to attack us when we are most vulnerable. They are, as we speak, gathering an army of many creatures around Narnia's borders. General Orieus," She nodded to him. "carried out a search of the area and our suspicions were proven correct. They now seek to destroy Cair Paravel."

"But what is their aim?" One of the furry creatures asked.

"I do not know. Many of them are against the High King and his siblings. Many of them previously supported Jadis, the White Witch and now seek revenge. Others are simply fighting because they hate Aslan and they hate us."

She swung around to face them. "And now, I ask you for a favor. Narnia is doomed unless everyone within its borders unites together. I know that you are all bewildered and not trusting of each other and maybe even of me. But now," Her eyes wandered over the hall. "Now, I ask you to put aside these differences. Our leaders are gone and we are-"

"Our leaders are not gone." One of the badgers said indignantly, swishing its tail for a dramatic effect. "One of our leaders still remains. And that is you, my lady. No matter what our differences are, I believe that all of us support you because you were chosen by Aslan himself. And Aslan's High Queen is our High Queen."

"Uh…Well, thank you, Badger." Isabela said quietly. "Thank you for those words of support. And thank you for your willingness to support me."

The badger nodded and settled comfortably back into his position as Isabela continued: "As I was saying, the enemy will attack soon. And it is best if we are well-prepared." She then added: "I cannot expect all of you to remain behind. Those who wish to do so by their own free will are more than welcome. Those who want to escape can do so. No grudge shall be held against you, provided you do not take up arms against us. Should Narnia win, you will be welcomed back with open arms."

Everyone looked at her expectantly and she spoke up. "Well….. those of you who want to leave can step away towards the end of the hall."

No one moved. Everyone remained where they were.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Isabela murmured to Orieus who smiled slightly and said:

"My lady I think it means that all of them will support you."

Isabela cleared her throat and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I…well….. Thank you. But the children must be evacuated at once. The dryads and naiads of the Western Woods will gladly give them shelter and they will be perfectly safe there."

Still everyone remained stationary. Slowly from the back some of the older female centaurs began herding the young foals out of the Hall. All of the beaver and badger children left but many of the centaurs and fauns, despite their young age remained, making it necessary for Isabela to descend and firmly force them out of the Hall.

Once the under-age had been had been shepherded off, Orieus boomed out instructions for the creatures to assemble themselves in the open grounds according to their species and the Narnians shuffled off obediently. Isabela sent the Griffins with messages to the rest of Narnia.

"My lady, I doubt that we will be able to reach in time." One of the Griffins said quietly, his voice ruminating.

"You must." Isabela said firmly, her voice slightly harsh. "We have no other choice. We have to have more soldiers if we are to defend ourselves."

"We will make hast-"

"You will go no where."

Isabela looked up, her heart hammering. The voice was low and musical but it's tones were slithery as that of a serpent. Instantaneously everyone was silenced as if caught by a charm. "I know that you are preparing to fight. I know that you mean to go to war. But I warm you: you cannot win."

The shadows in the corners of the Hall molded together and billowed into a spare form clad in deep ebony robes.

"That's the enemy from the North!" Orieus hissed under his breath though his face remained emotionless.

The man chuckled and Isabela glared at him, repulsed and disgusted. "I am indeed the enemy from the North." He said smoothly, inclining his head. "I am Vladimar, my lady Isabela."

Behind him came another figure with glittering hair spun from wine red threads and a pale, sharp face. Heidi.

Isabela felt as if she had dropped from the top of a maple tree. In her mind, she glimpsed Peter and Heidi entwined together and suddenly she knew why Alexander had wanted to get close to her.

"You diid it purposely." She said, her words boiling with compressed rage. "You sneak, you vile traitor, you-"

"My _daughter_. While this is very entertaining," Vladimar interrupted. "I have a proposal for you, my lady."

"My _queen_." Isabela said, her voice venomous. He looked startled: "I beg pardon?"

Isabela descended the steps until she faced him squarely. "I said," Her voice was deadly quiet. "I am not your lady, I am your queen. And you will address me as so."

A snarl appeared on his face, slashing through his features and contorting his expression. "You still have arrogance?"

"No. I still have my title. I have my crown and my kingdom and they shall remain with me." Isabela said coolly. "That is not arrogance. That is knowing your duty."

Vladimar hissed swiftly. "You will regret it."

"Why have you come?" She asked, throwing back her long mane of black hair.

"Why do you think?"

"Well haven't you come to sing impromptu sing-alongs?" Isabela suggested, her voice falsely demure. Behind her Orieus chuckled, his usually grim expression lightening though Mr. Tumnus went pale, his face alarmed.

Vladimar's face grew enraged. "You fool." He said in a slow voice. "You think this attitude will give you mercy?"

"I wasn't looking for your mercy." Isabela told him. "Even if Narnia has fallen, I will not ask you for mercy. Because you will not show it to me."

"You are right." He leaned back and studied her appraisingly. "I will burn all of this wretched country. I will fill the rivers with narnian blood."

"Pleasant day dreams." Isabela put in mildly. "May I ask why you want them to become real?"

A sickening smile appeared on Vladimar's face. "Why, revenge, of course."

Isabela did not speak and in the silence Heidi suddenly spoke up.

"Why do you care for these people? They are not yours. This country isn't yours. Narnia shouldn't mean anything to you. I know that you are their High Queen but only through marriage and that claim isn't strong at all."

"If you agree to hand over power to me," Vladimar said, his voice slithery. "I will ensure your safety. You can even rule some parts of Narnia, under my authority. If you lose however you will be killed. Something is better than nothing. If you hand over Narnia to us, I promise you I will deal with you fairly."

There was silence and the few present Narnians turned their eyes to Isabela.

Vladimar extended his hand to Isabela and the other to Heidi, saying softly. "Together we can rule all of Narnia. My two queens and I."

Isabela spat at him. "No."

Vladimar stared at her. "I beg pardon?"

"No." Isabela repeated more strongly. "You can go to hell."

Vladimar's face contorted and his features appeared startlingly bestial. Eyes livid, he glared at her, narrowing his eyes to slits so that he appeared almost snake-like. He snarled out: "What do you mean?"

"I _mean," _Isabela told him, facing him squarely and without fear. "I mean that I will defend Narnia with my blood. You are wrong when you say that this country isn't mine. Every river of this country is like my vein. Every plain is a part of my skin. It's cracks, its faults, I know like my palm lines. You say Narnia does not belong to me? That's because I belong to Narnia!"

She was struggling to breathe by the end of the little speech and she looked daringly at Vladimar, her expression haughty and contemptuous.

But all he said was: "You _are_ a fool."

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Isabela winced as a particularly strong blow fell on her shoulder from the head of a huge ram.

"You will not win." It grunted, lowering it's head and getting ready for another shot but with one swipe of her blade, Isabela sent it sprawling into the mud where already many bloodied bodies.

"Not yet." She panted and turned around to parry another blow as more and more of Vladimar's soldiers entered through the gates of Cair Paravel.

Swift, precise and deadly, each blow of hers was meant to kill. There was no other option. It was kill or be killed.

From the corner of her eye she saw the beavers racing over each other as they swiped the creatures in the face with their heavy tails.

"Have you noticed," Mr. Beaver shouted to his wife. "That on top of everything else, it's raining."

"No luck today at all." Mrs. Beaver said glumly and drew back her hand to punch one of the enemy animals. She shirked out at him: "Die! Die, silly, nasty little fiend!"

Despite the grimness of the situation, Isabela felt a smile come to her face. But that smile rapidly vanished as with a deafening roar one of the bulls slammed straight into Cair Paravel's lofty pillars sending them crashing to the ground, killing dozens and burying others. With a scowl Isabela turned back and pushed her way through the crowds of fighting warriors and made her way to Orieus, who was using his two swords with such skill that Isabela felt a twinge of envy.

"Stop that mad bull!" She shouted to him over the torrent of rain as it sleeted down over them. "It's destroying the castle!"

With a curt nod, Orieus charged forwards, his stride lithe and jumping around the bull heaved his swords into its chest.

"My lady," Isabela twisted slightly to see Mr. Tumnus heaving and panting badly as he made his way to her. "My lady, they are pouring over the drawbridge like mice."

"Send Roran and his centaurs to protect the drawbridge. They mustn't let more enemies enter." Shoving the hideous monster she was fighting, she twisted her blade high. "Give them stern orders not to abandon the drawbridge in any case. And- what are you holding?"

Distracted Isabela did not see the heavy fist that flew towards her. With the strength of raw iron it connected with her cheek and sent her sprawling into the wet ground.

Mr. Tumnus released a sound that was somewhere between a battle- cry and a shriek. As Isabela stared through a haze of dizziness, she saw the bizarre image of Mr. Tumnus striking the monster over and over with a sphere glass ball.

"You dare-you dare-" He spluttered on until his face grew alarmingly red and he struggled for breath. "Are you alright, my lady?'

"Just about." She muttered and jumped to her feet. "Hurry and get to Roran."

Mr. Tumnus scurried off and Isabela advanced to the next enemy. To her surprise when she grabbed it's hood, it released a very undignified shriek and fell to the floor."Don't kill me!"

"Killing you would be one of the greater pleasures of my life, Heidi." Isabela said actually and with a flick she sent Heidi's blade flying off.

"You really don't know how to fight, do you?"

Something like terror shone in Heidi's eyes. "I… Isabela, I was desperate. I…. he would have killed me."

"As I will kill you now."

"I don't think so." Only years of experience could have prepared her for what followed next as Vladimar twisted over her and brought his sword down in a deadly arc.

"You are most skilled at sword-fighting, Isabela, my dear." He said, his voice so pleasant that thye could have been discussing the weather. "You are as skilled as your husband."

"Which means that I'm better than you." She said shortly.

"Oh. I don't doubt that. But you see I do have some other powers as well. Some _spectacular_ gifts." He hissed like a snake and as his eyes bore into Isabela's she felt pain consume her body. Pain, so raw and so blistering that it hurt like anything.

Writhing she fell to the floor and saw only black. When she looked up again, Vladimar's face was graced with a predatory smirk.

"This is a battle you cannot win."

And, like a rearing serpent, he striked.

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When Lucy woke up from the deep slumber, it was morning and as she peeked out from under the violet coverlets she saw that the world had turned white over night.

It was Christmas day.

With a delighted cry she sprang out of bed, pounding on Susan who lay deep asleep beside her. Her cries of: "It's Christmas!" were joined by Susan yelps of pain as both of them tumbled out of the bed and onto the floor.

"Lu! Don't be so excitable." Susan said crossly as she scooped up her lush black waterfall of hair and tied them into a messy bun. "Yes, yes. I know it's Christmas but that doesn't mean you should wrestle with people at eight in the morning."

Lucy rolled her eyes, shaking her head so that her pixie-cut red hair bounced and bobbed.

"You are such a bore." She pronounced before running out of the room to that adjacent and promptly giving her brothers the same greeting which she had given her elder sister. With great patience, Peter poked his blond head and said groggily: "What time is it?"

"It's hell o'clock." Edmund moaned, his coffee hair badly tousled. "What is wrong with you, Lu? Is your internal clock badly clogged up?"

"It's Christmas!" Lucy told him, her eyes merry and bright. "Come on! It's time to open presents!"

Edmund's eyes shot open and with stunning speed he jumped out and bounded down the stairs.

"First!" He yelled back to Lucy who giggled and made to follow him. From the opposite room, Susan scowled down at her siblings.

"Oh lighten up, Su," Peter said laughing lightly as he swept a hand through his hair. "It's Christmas."

"I know." She said grumpily. "Lucy has repeated that line about a hundred times. Some particularly close to my aching ear drum. It sounded like a howling cat."

Peter rolled his sea-blue eyes and he muttered: "Party-pooper."

Susan's eyes popped open. "What did you call me?" She shrieked at her brother who stuck out his tongue at her. Gathering up her dressing robe, she ran after him. "Peter Pevensie, you insulting, insincere little toad!"

"That's an improvement from yesterday." Edmund informed Peter, tugging out candies from a brightly colored woolen sock that hung over the mantle. "What was it? You dumb, stupid, bumbling _buffoon_ of an idiot."

"I can say worse!" Susan fumed at him and then her eyes fell on the lovely rose pink sock he grabbed next. Her face drained of color. "My sock!"

Then started a most exhilarating game of tag in which Edmund bounded all over the house in his pyjamas waving Susan's sock in the air and a livid, red faced Susan chasing him: an umbrella in her hand that she waved for dramatic emphasis and the house shook with her shrieks of rage.

Lucy poked her head from behind the brilliantly lit Christmas tree. "There they go again." She sighed. "Honestly, you'd think they were both five years old."

"While you're fifty, grandma?" Peter teased her as he eased down beside her. "What did you get?"

Lucy held out armful of half-unwrapped gifts and then her eyes fell on a gift hidden deep down by the tree's branches.

"What's that?" She asked curiously, crawling under it to snatch it out. "Who is it for?"

"I don't know." Peter said frowning. "What does it say?"

Lucy turned it over: "Nothing."

By then a triumphant Susan and a sullen Edmund had joined them again and their bickering stopped as they too gazed curiously at the gift.

"Open it." Susan told them.

"Sureee." Edmund said, eyeing it suspiciously. "What if it's a highly dangerous nuclear bomb?"

"Shut up, Ed." Susan glared at him. "Open it, Peter."

Gently Peter removed the glittering emerald green wrapper and from it fell out a half-burned note while Peter was left holding an intricately carved frame.

A poignant silence fell. His siblings exchanged glances and then looked at Peter's odd expression.

"What is it, Peter?"

Susan knelt down and picked up the smoldering note.

"The High King Peter and his wife, High Queen Isabela. A gift from Narnia to their beloveds. " She glanced up and said: "Oh, Peter."

Peter turned away and as the portrait turned over, Susan saw her brother's face smiling out at her and beside him: her long hair beautifully coiffure, a lovely smile on her face and her emerald green eyes shining: Isabela.

A portrait. A gift from Narnia.

"Look." Lucy said softly. "There's writing on it."

And indeed there was. On the corner, written in cursive, were the words:

_Nothing on earth can break apart love. _

_What belongs to Narnia, always returns to Narnia._

And just above it was the imprint of a paw. Aslan.

The gift was from Aslan.

"Peter…" Edmund trailed off unsure of what to do but then Lucy stood up and went to her elder brother, embracing him as if he were her lifeline. Silently Susan and Edmund joined them, wrapping each other in themselves.

Helen Pevensie, standing on the doorframe with tears in her eyes, saw a family united in love.

Aslan in contrast, watching them with gentle eyes, saw a family united by all they had lost and with the hope that they would gain it again. Someday.

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_**Three months later….**_

The sky was weeping and it's huge, teardrops rained fiercely to the ground. Standing amidst the storm's fury was a lone figure, carrying a bundle carefully in his arms, cloaked in ebony, his hairy hooves trampling the family of slender reeds that dotted the muddy bank. He kept glancing behind as if he feared that he was being followed and sloshing through the mud, blinking rain from his lashes he made it to the river's end. From the large maple tree that crowned the bank a pair of beavers scurried down from its branches.

"Oh Mr. Tumnus!" Mrs. Beaver asked breathlessly. "Has Narnia fallen? Is it true?"

Mr. Tumnus sighed. "No. Not yet." His expression turned distant as he said gravely. "But it will soon enough."

Her husband, gathered his furry head in his hands and moaned. "But surely the Kings and Queens are doing something. The High King-"

"Is gone." Mr. Tumnus said miserably. "No sign of them. It was as if they vanished into thin air."

"Aslan?" Mrs. Beaver whispered. "Is he-?

"No. he hasn't been seen at all."

In the stunned silence that followed, Mrs. Beaver's huge eyes brimmed with tears that fell over and trickled down her face.

"No hope." Mr. Beaver moaned. "No hope at all. What will you do?"

"The High Queen has ordered the survivors to evacuate the castle." Mr. Tumnus held back tears. "She herself has no strength to travel. She will fight for the castle alone."

Hesitating slightly, he held out the bundle of blankets in his arms and said in a barely audible whisper.

"She also instructed me to give him to you."

"Him?" Mr. Beaver said blankly as his wife gently took the child from Mr. Tumnus' arms. Stifling a gasp he peered into its face. He was sleeping and his skin was flawlessly pale. His tiny fists were curled around his body and his golden hair shone like a lion's mane in the flash of thunder. And when he opened his eyes, to peer back at the Beavers, they saw that his eyes were green – emerald green like the plains of Narnia, green like the most abundant forests- Isabela's eyes.

"The High King's child." Mr. Tumnus said hollowly. "His son."

"What are we to do?"

"Take him away from Narnia. Keep him safe." He turned his glinting eyes to the Beavers. "We would take him with us but it is too risky. No one will suspect this."

After a tremulous pause he went on. "Tell him about his father, his mother – who is the bravest of all. Tell him about Aslan, about us and about the Narnia he never saw. Raise him up to fight for the land of his parents. He is the heir of Narnia."

"And the High Queen?"

Mr. Tumnus' expression became even more grief stricken.

"The High Queen's dying." He said flatly. "She fought for Cair Paravel until the last drop of blood she had."

"What did she name him?"

The tears pooled out and splattered the red earth.

"Lionel. She named him Lionel."

" For the Lion." Mr. Beaver whispered.

For a few moments they said nothing and instead stared down at the child nestling in the blankets, his face like an angel's.

Finally Mr. Tumnus leaned down and kissed the child's forehead. Straightening up he said in a broken voice. "Go now. Make haste! And take good care of him."

"We will let no harm come to him." Mr. Beaver said in a harsh whisper. "That I promise you."

They scurried away into the falling rain. Mr. Tumnus stood watching as the shadowy figures faded away into nothingness. The tears he had held for so long fell away and weeping he turned his back to them. Silently, softly he made his way back to the castle where death and destruction lay.

From the very red earth of Narnia came a low, hauntingly touching call, a sweet tune that spoke of the creatures' love for Narnia. The stricken melody of the forest reached him and he knew that the creatures, naiads and dryads, were lamenting over the loss of Narnia. It was haunting and beautiful and rose above the screeching of the wind. And as it's echoes died away he whispered :

"May Aslan help us. May Aslan help us all."

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Woah! Almost 7000 words! This is my all time record. A special treat to my loyal readers and reviewers.

Personally this chapter is my favorite. Not only because it's so tragic and touching but because it shows Isabela's true character: brave, selfless and fierce, not just a sobbing heroine. If the entire story was the development of her character, then this chapter was the climax. Here I'd like to confirm that yes, Isabela indeed had a child – a boy named Lionel. Also this chapter shows the relationship of the Pevensie family and how Narnia and the war changed their relationship.

To those readers who wanted Isabela and Peter to meet again: Never fear! Maybe, perhaps one day, they will meet each other again. That's up to your imagination.

And so, after around two years of editing and writing and updating and thinking up good jokes for the Pevensie siblings, the story ends. My thanks to all the angels who reviewed it and encouraged me. Thank you to those who followed it and "favorited" it. To all my early reviewers and my recent reviewers, I cannot express my gratitude to you. This chapter is dedicated to all of you for your support and your care and your lovely comments that made my day.

I end the chapter on the same note as that in which all the previous ended: Review, review, review! Come on guys please! This is the last chapter. Please, please, please review! Those who simply read it or follow it or favorite it…. Please. I request you to review.

So… **With hundreds of tears, I officially say goodbye to** _**The High King's Queen.**_

Regards,

L. Potter


	41. Teaser

**Author's Note: ** A surprise for my beloved readers and reviewers (which half of you will already have guessed). So…. I'll delay no longer.

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Peter and Isabela's story continues in _Forbidden Fruit_, the sequel to _The High King's Queen_:

With a deafening blow of Aslan's magical horn, the kings and queens of Old return to Narnia. To their shattered kingdom, broken empire and lost hope. With the onslaught of the evil sorcerer, Vladimar's, monstrous forces, the Narnians retreat deeper and deeper, leaving behind no shred of their existence. Together with the displaced King Caspian, an old friend of theirs, the Pevensies struggle to find the Narnia of their memories. But then, on Aslan's Table, a greater evil is reborn – Jadis, the ethereal, deadly White Witch, who will stop at nothing to extract her revenge from the Pevensies, who were responsible for her downfall. With Narnia itself on the verge of doom and collapse and with despair, mistrust and suspicion everywhere, what will the Narnians be willing to fight for?

**Exclusive Extracts :**

**Teaser 1:**

Heidi stared transfixed as Vladimar circled the stone table, murmuring incantations in his serpentine tones:

"Claim of flesh I have over thee. With the flame of blood, I give rise to thee."

She felt goosebumps erupt over her pale skin. A cold blast of wind swept through, violently tearing at her dress.

"The flame, my dear."

Heidi knelt down and bowing her head, extended the flame in her hands like an offering. The wind caught at it and suddenly, with a massive eruption, fire leapt around the table, rearing and smoking. And in its dancing glory, Heidi saw a slender figure emerging, uncoiling like a serpent ready to strike.

**Teaser 2:**

He saw a flicker of gold and white and tugged at it. He stared at the lovely material in his hands. The charred ruins of his wife's wedding dress.

**Teaser 3:**

Peter slapped his forehead: "Of course! I'm so stupid!"

"Of course you are. I've been trying to tell you that for ages. Did you just realize that now?"

Peter glared at him. "Shut up, Ed."

**Teaser 4:**

Peter looked down and saw a dagger, stained with blood, protruding from his chest. Straight through his heart.

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Ok so this is a sort of teaser for the next story in the Warrior of Aslan series: Forbidden Fruit. Be sure to tell me your comments about the teasers. Thank you to all those who reviewed the last chapter. And yes, the Warriors of Aslan is a series in which The High King's Queen was the first book. Please do tell me your thoughts about the teasers. The story will be uploaded soon.

L. Potter


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